Every Tom, Albus and Harry
by HmYesAStory
Summary: Every once in a while some powerful berk with a chip on their shoulder decides that they should flip the table. Just when we finally got everything cleaned up. Harry Potter, on the other hand, came to the table playing a totally different game. !PowerfulHarry Crossover Dips. Based on a DnD campaign I'm running.
1. No Hard Feelings Right?

**St. Grogory's Primary School 1987**

It was a calm afternoon, the weather wasn't too bad and it was routine for the students to have a nice recess after lunch. Harry decided to spend his time on the farther end of the huge campus yard. It was a quiet and green patch of grass with a resilient tree at its center. The spot owned an attractive ratio of warm sun, refreshing breeze, and comfortable obscurity. Harry, of course, was alone. No one wanted to deal with his bully of a cousin. Especially once the teachers looked away, because that meant one thing. Harry Hunting.

Harry knew better than to have his back turned away without a teacher in his sight. The Dudley Gang sprung at the opportunity.

"Look Dud, someone left a punching bag here just for us." Joked Piers Polkiss.

Harry always thought the rat faced boy couldn't be any more of a yes-man than if he was permanently glued to his cousins whale of an arse.

"Sod off Dudley, don't you have some pudding to steal."

"Ahh, a fat joke, well put Potty." Harry could hear Dudley's amusement growing

"What's the matter Dudley, got tired of beating up another 6 year year old?" Harry looked around he saw some of the gang looping around to block his retreat.

"This one deserved it." Dudley laughed. The circle slowly got smaller. Harry watched disappointedly at his window of escape closed like a casket. "Going somewhere Potter?" Piers taunted.

"Oi Dud, let's jus' thump 'em 'ere." said Malcolm Corner, one of the older lanky boys that Dudley somehow blackmailed into his gang.

"Now, now boys. The fun will happen soon, but why not give him a sporting chance." Dudley's beaming smile could be heard in his voice.

Harry turned around to come face to face with his cousin.

Dudley looked down his nose at Harry, to everyone else he looked like he was in deep thought, Harry knew it was theatrics.

"You get five Potter, muttered Dudley, emulating the mafioso movie he snuck to watch the other week. "Because you're family."

His smirk never left, even as Harry turned to run through the gap created for his scheduled escape.

Dudley's hounds bounded after him, with Dudley lazily keeping up the rear.

* * *

Harry had spent the last 10 minutes of his recess running for his continued good (relative) health. They would split into formation, the smaller, yet faster boys would hound Harry and try to slow him down, rocks would be thrown at his legs, back and head. This was for the next group of slower, but stronger boys to hold him down, they would normally relieve him of any valuables. Then, there would be Dudley. He'd saunter over and collect his "fox", the first thirty seconds of the punching bag, coincidentally named Harry.

That's not to say Harry was defenceless. He wasn't trained like Dudley or his goons, but he learned to hold himself well in their scraps. Swift jaw taps for those who were in his weight class and low blows, elbows, and dirt to the face for everyone else. Harry could be a right scoundrel for anyone with his ill health in mind.

That's certainly what Malcom thought when he reached out to grab Harry's baggy shirt only to get his wrist twisted and some swiped lunch room table salt in his eyes. Harry didn't look back to watch the 8 year old frantically switch between grasping his wrist and poorly try to rub the salt out of his face, but he did have a laugh at the pained cries.

"We were going to leave you for Dudley, but now we're gonna turn you into a blood spot Potter." Someone growled out.

Harry didn't bother with a response, he knew they could do it. You'd think the teachers wouldn't buy the "Harry fell off the monkey bars" routine after the 25th time.

So, Harry did his best at out running the gaping maw of a beat down right behind him. However sometimes you're just unlucky.

In a rare stroke of intelligence, the gang managed to corral Harry towards one of the dumpster alleys by the school. By the time Harry realised his mistake it was too late. Frantically diving behind one of the dumpsters towards the shadowy areas of the alley.

Harry felt many things behind that dumpster: anger, fear, hopelessness, and most importantly shame. The pain of getting jumped Harry could take, but getting a thumping you knew you didn't have too always rubbed Harry the wrong way. Worst of all his cousin would stand above his bruised form, smug like a fed cat.

The steps of his pursuers drew closer. Harry's usually calm countenance was failing and rushing panic was filling the gaps.

Tightly closing his eyes.

Anywhere, but here.

Anywhere but here.

Anywhere but-

A cool breeze flowed over the back of Harry's neck. His eyes slowly opened to find himself on top of the school roof a ways away from his last location.

"Bloody fucking Hell!" Panic started rising in Harry.

Breath erratic, fingers rapidly twitching, and eyes glazing over. Harry started to believe all the beatings caught up with him. Dudley's headshot combos finally liquified his brain. He just teleported. Like Captain Kirk and Dr. Spock from Dudley's Sci-fi shows on the tube. "That's impossible, it would be like Ma-" Harry paused. That word was forbidden in the Dursley household even the precious "Dudders" got an unusually sharp look from his parents when the word was said.

Was he a Magician?

That would explain a lot of the weirdness that surrounded him. The whispers of his freakishness, Uncle Vernon's threats to beat it out of him, the taboo of the word in the house. It all made sense. Harry was a mutant,or a mage, or a time lord like on the telly. Only one real way to find out, right? Trial and error.

Harry tried to well up a similar feeling to being trapped by Dudley's Gang. He closed his eyes and focused. He tried for a few minutes but didn't feel any change. Maybe it was just a fluke.

" !"

Harry jumped, he found his scenery had changed to the patch of grass behind his tree. It worked. Harry was special, he was-

"Mr. Potter!" Harry's thoughts were cut by an exasperated voice. "Recess ended 5 minutes ago, so march yourself inside or you'll spend the next week indoors."

Harry's Year 3 teacher started to drag him inside by the shoulder rather forcefully, but Harry didn't care. Sitting down at his desk, Harry couldn't focus on the lesson. The only thought Harry had for the rest of the day was, "What other things can I do?"

** Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England**

Number 4 Privet Drive was a boring house, in a dull neighborhood, in the blandest suburb in all of England. Every house in the street had a soul sucking beige brown facade filled with even more dry occupants. Every lawn was cut the same height, every car a similar shade of baby blue. No house even dared to put anything up that would let them stand out too much. Privet Drive's residents preferred to gossip than show off. And anything that disrupted the normality was treated with disgust.

Uncle Vernon called him a financial burden. Aunt Petunia called him a lazy bumpkin. The neighbors just called him trouble and why wouldn't they.

The Dursleys out of the kindness of their hearts took Harry in after his drunken, no good, hippy parents got themselves blown up in a car crash. Apparently, according to the Dursleys, Harry didn't fall far from the undesirable tree. The neighbors would know no better. The only time they saw Harry was when he was out doing chores and fixing his glasses, broken from his constant fighting no doubt. His ever unruly black hair and baggy hand-me-down clothes certainly didn't help in that regard either. No one on the inside would mind the bruises, no one on the outside saw his abuse. Privet Drive saw Harry as a trouble child, but Harry thought differently.

Harry was an observant child. He noticed the harsh gazes and hushed whispers. The less than subtle differences between how the Dursleys treated him versus Dudley. When he asked why the answer was always,

"Because you're a freak." Petunia would shriek. "It's what you deserve."

That was the answer Harry often received, at least from the Dursleys. That was always the answer. As if that one statement defined all logic, Harry was a freak.

But he knew better than to take the Dursleys at face value. He knew he was different, and understood a lot about the world around him. So he more than noticed when things that shouldn't would happen. His primary school teacher's hair turned blue after falsely accusing Harry for disrupting class, a bleeding cut from making breakfast for the Dursleys healing instantly, burning a spider that got too close to him inside his cupboard under the stairs. Harry wasn't a freak, it's just that freakish things happen to him. He'd learn to roll with it. However teleportation was the last of the proof Harry needed.

Since the incident. Harry had spent the time honing his craft. He started reading up on other Magicians, Warlocks and Wizards of old. From Houdini, to Rincewind, to Merlin himself, at least what he could find. Harry absorbed any ideas on how to use his newfound powers. Anything and everything that he thought could help him was fair game.

**November 1987**

Harry teleported from townhouse to townhouse. Laughing freely as he raced across rooftops of West London to get back to Dursley Prison as he'd been calling it more often lately. Dudley's gang tried to ambush him this afternoon, but Harry gave them the slip by taking the highroad.

He could teleport a few times a short distance, blinking he called it, but if he went any farther than a kilometer he would feel winded as if he sprinted the distance.

"Harry Hunting" helped with physical endurance and stunts like this helped train his magic. Harry figured if he kept at it he could join a track team. For now he'd take not dying from the commutes to and from school.

Magic was physically draining.

Missing the timing for an uncharacteristically long jump, Harry fell down into an open bin. Stunned by the fall, Harry started slowly pulling himself out of the trash. Only to be helped up by a firm hand.

"Um, thanks. Sorry for dropping in unannounced like this." Harry tried to joke.

The face attached to the hand was hidden by a hood. Harry for the life of him couldn't describe it from any memory, but his voice was young, distinct, and mischievous.

"Don' worry, n't everyday some posh bint takes a 30 foot dumpster dive, very entertainin'."

The voice changed from playful to inquiring.

"What'd ya been doin' up there anyway?" It was now Harry's time to be smug.

"You'd never believe me." He replied with a smile.

"Try me." Disbelief leaching through the playful voice.

Harry motioned for his ear, the hooded youth chose to play along.

"Magic." Harry whispered.

"Bullshit!"

Harry tried to look indignant. "It's true!"

"So fallin' in bins is the shining standard for magic these days, innit?" The hooded youth started to laugh.

Harry took offence. "Oi, I was falling with style, thank you." The laughter grew louder.

"You're a riot mate, wha's your name?"

"Harry."He replied, bringing up his hand to shake.

"They call me Starfish." The hooded boy accepted the hand again.

Harry tilted his head, eyebrows raised. "Why's that?"

"Urchin was a tad too prickly for me, a ways too ...unapproachable." He reasoned, stretching out the last word. Harry resisted the urge to snort.

"So Starfish what do you do for fun?"

Harry could feel Starfish's very Cheshire grin. "Oh many things friend, many things."

The two boys spent the rest of the afternoon, getting into trouble, showing off and generally having a good time. With each teaching the other tricks or trading jokes. Harry was overjoyed to finally find a companion, one that wouldn't be bullied away by Dudley and his gang. Harry could finally relax and enjoy himself as a normal kid.

"So what do you want to do next!" Harry had nothing to look forward to back home, Vernon was working late nights to suck up for a promotion, Petunia was having a "girls night" whatever that was, and Dudley had boxing practice.

"Oh we can go-" Starfish was cut off by a pager alarm beeping. Harry could swear Starfish's body frowned with him.

"Sorry Harry but I have to go now." Harry looked like a kicked puppy.

"Oh okay, it was nice meeting you." Harry turned to leave.

"Don' be sucha berk, mate. I still wanna be friends. Starfish mate for life and all that." Starfish waved around with dramatics. "Drop in, same time to'marra, I'll be 'ere."

With a smile and a promise , Harry turned, waved his goodbye, and began the long journey home, passing a few televisions on his way. Far too happy to stop and listen.

"This just in today another disappearance in a string of kidnappings happening in the greater London area, the 4th this month…."

**March 1988**

Harry discovered something in the middle of weeding the garden one weekend. Normally he would just "ungrow" the weeds back to their original states but Petunia was wary of him given his new record speed. So he'd have to sweat out in the garden to keep her off his back.

He spent a lot of time mumbling about how hungry he was that day. Petunia gave him a paper thin slice of cheese and the end piece of a loaf of bread before she kicked him out to work. Harry's stomach cried out for more ever since he started practicing magic, but Harry knew the Dursley's would only give him the bare minimum for his body to not be visibly malnourished.

While Dudley got third helpings, to complement his boxing classes.

Harry was broken from his complaining by two taps to his leg, similar to a knock. Looking down he saw a grass snake holding a frog in its jaws. If it couldn't get any weirder one of Ms. Figg's cats arrived with a field mouse, both nudging their catches towards him.

"Er.. thanks." Harry was worried that the weirdness of magic was starting to desensitize him. The snake and cat nodded.

"You. Bad. Hunter." The cat meowed out.

"Ssstill young. You Learn." The snake finished.

"You can speak English?" Harry blurted out in amazement. Both gave a so-so movement.

"That's wicked! What's it like being a cat or a snake? Do birds talk? Do you have night vision? Were snakes really cursed to crawl on their bellies for all eternity? Do you really have nine lives?"

Harry's barrage of questions was met with pure confusion on the animals end. After spending the rest of the afternoon trying, he was half successful in his questioning. He tried focusing more so they could understand him completely, but it still nothing. With Aunt Petunia coming to fetch him to start on other chores, he whispered a promise to come back later.

"And after the dishes you'll help me with dinner, am I understood, Freak?"

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry quickly walked off to the kitchen

Petunia shook her head and went back to the pastime of housewives everywhere, binging daytime television. Normally whatever soap opera was on but today it was interrupted.

"We have an update on the disappearances happening in the last few months, more at 8."

**April 1988 **

It was a typical English day, the streets of London were lightly watered. Her charming citizens not giving the rain any mind. They simply spent the day plodding along, fighting the good fight.

One particular pair could be seen enjoying the nice English sunshine. A single mother dressed in her finest coat checking out fresh fruit from a stall. Her son looking to be of an inquisitive age, dressed in a bright yellow raincoat with matching galoshes tugging on her coat pleading for her attention.

"Mummy Mummy there's a boy on that roof."

"That's nice honey." Her tone one of an encouraging parent, if a little exasperated. The woman went back to her fruit, smiling fondly at her child's growing imagination only for her face to change once she saw the price of oranges.

Over on the roof high above the mundane was not just one boy but two.

"Harry, wha's so nice 'bout a roof." Starfish groaned out he was starting to get bored with sitting around, the day started with the two climbing on rooftops to sneak into a cinema, to watch "Bug-Juice" or something, it was the start of a great day. But that went to a grinding halt once Harry got into his "trance-thingy." Harry did it regularly enough for it to not be weird anymore. Once Harry had his nap they would get into some trouble or another Starfish often asked what the experience was like, but Harry would always be cut off by whatever they ran into next.

Harry never got the chance to talk about the feel of magic. What could only be described as sapphire-sea green wind flowing all around him. It never stayed too long, but would often softly caress Harry, like Petunia would to Dudley. Warmth and love, only possible from a mother. Harry was feeling rather moody after that. But magic wouldn't let Harry dwell on that feeling for too long, normally through a quick jolt to shake him out of his funk. Turns out Magic was as fickle as anyone else.

"Okay I've found something else for us to do." Harry hopped up to his feet.

Starfish's shadowy hood somehow brightened. "All right let's go…"

A sudden alarm stopped both boys, Harry solemnly looked to Starfish. The cheery mood dropped.

"Harry I'm sorry, I gotta go. We can hang out nex-." Harry stopped him with a wiry smile.

"It's fine. Do your thing, I'll see you around." Harry climbed down the roof. Starting his long walk back to the Dursley's. Walking down familiar streets, taking the train to Surrey. He wasn't sure of what to do with himself.

Only for his magic to subtly push him into an alleyway. Harry carefully stepped through the trash. "**Mage Sight**." Harry's eyes flashed for a second, filling with magic. He could now see a silver cord leading him in the same direction his magic was trying to nudge him. Harry followed. With each step the draw of magic called to him, a chain of fate marching him towards his destiny. It ended in a pile of rubble. Magic pooling around, anchoring his eyes to this spot.

Harry pulled back the rubbish to reveal a brown barn owl. Dead. Harry wondered what happened to it. No blood, no bite marks, no claw marks, nothing. Strange. No stranger than the letter in its claws. Fumbling over to the letter you found that it was sealed with red wax with a weird symbol stamped in. Some type of Moth? Very peculiar. Was reading someone else's mail a felony? Magic definitely didn't care and wanted Harry to see what was going on. So it was fair game as far as Harry was concerned.

As soon as he touched it a stinging sensation went through his hand. Quickly throwing down the letter Harry wondered if magic or someone was stopping him from reading their mail. Harry could admit that it was a reasonable and no doubt useful bit of magic. Harry was no slouch though. Feeling around the magic of the letter in the same way he would when lockpicking his cupboard door, a mental click told Harry his work was done. This time he picked up the letter gingerly. Feeling a tingle of success Harry made quick work of the wax seal before scanning the letter.

It was mostly gibberish, names of places Harry was more than sure were nowhere in Britain. But every so often the writer would go on and on about the search for a lost boy but it was blurred out to Harry's eyes. More peculiar magic. Harry started back on to Privet Dr.

Harry wasn't arrogant enough to think that he was the only mage around but, from all the books he read mages didn't do well with normal people. The phase "thou shall not suffer a witch to live." came to mind. But this was evidence of other mages communicating with each other. Was it just two friends gossiping or was there a civilization of wizards somewhere. Definitely something Harry would have to look into.

** June 1988**

It was another summer day. Harry had finished his chores and his summer packet for primary school was long completed, he'd spend the rest of his afternoon in his cupboard. He was writing down some more ideas for his powers when his lamp went out. Harry sighed, he was hoping that this charge would've lasted longer. Vernon wasn't too keen on buying Harry anything let alone batteries to power his lamp light, so Harry decided to use his magic to recharge the batteries. Luckily Harry figured out that he could make a small current of electricity to suit his needs.

"Focus, hear the static, smell the ozone, feel the tingle." Harry whispered to himself.

He had to get in the right mindset to perform this simple task. It was one of the main reasons he hadn't tried to make a fireball yet. It was **the** spell. The quintessential weapon of every magic slinger he read about, but Harry didn't attempt it no matter how badly he wanted to try. Harry frequently hurt himself while practicing with electricity, and fire without borders spread. So no flashy fireballs just yet. But he was getting the hang of making stable currents.

He was close to a full charge when he was disturbed by Vernon's loud yelling, causing a spark to arc out and zap him.

"Boy, get out here I have an announcement to make!"

Harry, gave his door a sour look. Exiting his cupboard, while sucking the burn on his thumb.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry mumbled and turned to find all three Dursleys in the living room.

"Listen well boy, the district manager of Grunnings is going to be at dinner tonight. Three others from my office got promotions along with holidays to Bermuda and I for one think I'm more deserving than any of them. You are to be on your best behavior, or I'll lock you up in the cupboard again."

Harry wasn't fazed by the threat. He was picking the cupboard lock a ways before he could teleport anyway, but he decided to be diplomatic.

"Of course Uncle Vernon."

Vernon huffed. "I'll be watching you for any tricks, boy. "

He turned to Petunia, "Puppet could you make that wonderful steak of your's, the boss tells me he's partial to rare meat."

* * *

It was 8:30 when a nice, yet forgettable car with tinted windows rolled down the block. Inside was the man of the hour, the district manager of Grunnings, Gyorgy Denever. He was a handsome Slavic man that looked somewhere in his late-thirties. He had silky neck length salt and pepper hair and hawkish orange-brown almost amber eyes. With high regal cheekbones and a slim nose.

He first came to the western countries fleeing the Russo-Turkish War as a baby swaddled in his mother's arms. His family fled to the then named Holy Roman Empire. He spent much of his childhood working for a semi-successful Bohemian banker running errands. He worked his way up the chain to become a profound banker himself. With his newly found wealth he drowned himself in decadence. His constant parties and feasts were still told today as local legend. It was there his humanity was stolen away. The drunken stupor of one of his outings was a perfect ambush. His group was easy pickings among the low streetlight. Without warning something bit into the necks of the party go-ers. Screams of panic and feeble attempts to fight back or hide were made.

While his entourage was being feasted upon, he attempted to flee only to be cornered by two stragglers of the scourge. They planned to use him to usurp control from their current master, by turning him into their thrall. Denever protested but his captors simply replied by sinking their teeth in him. He would have spent the rest of his un-life as a slave to the two had they not succeeded in their coup 50 years later and then turn on each other. With both masters killed Denever was free to take their older blood increasing his power and free himself from any influences.

Denever decided to spend his new found freedom hiding away from many things: Hunters, Magicals, Governments, his fellow vampires. It soon became apparent that he would need to find a consistent source of food to avoid detection. Blood Banks were not around for the next 60 years or so. When they did come up Denever decided they were obviously traps for his kind on principle alone. Gallons of blood just sitting there unguarded "Nem repül a sült galamb a szádba." Pull the other one. With no other discrete options, Denever decided to make his own personal feeding ground. Thus Grunnings Drill Company.

He first made the business to collect a healthy stock of young men for feeding in 1855. It was a time that no one would notice one or two disappearing, it was genius. Eventually, with the rise of family men coming to work for him he had to change his tactics. He would offer promotions to the more exotic corporate offices and "send off" the families with a vacation. Many were legitimate to keep up the ruse but many others weren't so fortunate. The best part was that no one could lead it back to him. Because instead of changing his appearance every 10 years or so, he would just inthrall a new CEO and Board Members, while giving himself an unassuming, but still powerful and mobile job of one of the District Managers.

Moving throughout Grunnings International offices was a breeze, no employee was skeptical when promotions were thrown about, and some thralls being made for keeping appearances. And as a tax paying, honest place of commerce that employed several thousands in Europe, Asia and the Caribbean, Grunnings was looked on favorably by many governments. With all the busy work set up Denever simply rolled a lottery to figure out who was on the menu every month, unluckily for him this week he would have to choke down Vernon Dursley.

He strolled up to Number 4 Privet Drive, drinking in the dull view.

Halfway across the lawn, he felt a shift in the air. The scent of magic wafted towards his nose. It was intoxicating. A blood ritual, with one-no two sacrifices to power it. With an underlying scent of flowers. Was Vernon a wand waver? No, Denever would have known by now and he doubted that Vernon of all people's magic would smell like flowers. No, this had to be done by a woman. His wife perhaps? Maybe she could be of use for a time before finally being a "for the road" snack. Either way, any wand waver capable of magic this strong should be dealt with first. He licked his lips sensually.

No, no reign it in.

This would be his first taste of Wandwaver since what, 1978? 79? Oh damn that Voldemort.

Still, a witch meant that things could quickly get out of hand. He squatted and put a nail to the sidewalk drawing a symbol in the concrete. A whispered word raising a barrier unseen to the mundane of the neighborhood. Standard muggle repelling ward. With that Denever got to his feet.

Finally getting to the door he knocked twice. The door swung open eagerly and in the door frame stood a best dressed Vernon Dursley.

"Mr. Denever, so glad you could make it." Vernon shuffled quickly to shake Denever's hand. Denever with thinly veiled disgust, smiled and took the sweaty gesture.

"Vernon, It's a pleasure. **May I come in?**"

"Of course! Please may I take your coat?"

"Certainly." And with that the Dursley's fate was sealed.

* * *

Dinner was a very lively affair, Harry had never seen Aunt Petunia laugh that genuinely, ever. Mr. Denever just had that certain charm. It was an added bonus that Mr. Denever could shut up Uncle Vernon with a sentence. Stories of worldly travels and history lessons were thrown about at the table and Harry was even allowed to chime in. He found himself liking Mr. Denever, but there was something in Harry's gut was telling him that he should be on guard around him.

Harry looked over at Dudley to get a read on him. He looked a little put out about some guy that wasn't his dad flirting with his mum. Harry could see Dudley's point. Dudley was good at reading people and Harry was exceptional at reading Dudley so if he had no real problems with the man Harry shouldn't either. So why couldn't he get the fight or flight feeling off his mind?

" Mr. Denever," Petunia cooed. "Surely a worldly man like you would be above a humble meal like this."

"Oh Az én snackem I have tasted many exotic foods but this is something I could never get tired of. A wonderful meal, by an even more wonderful woman." Denever replied, with Petunia blushing into her wine glass.

"PER-haps it's time for...uh.. dessert, dear?" Vernon half shouted, almost breaking his chair getting up. Vernon just spent the entire night watching his boss get fresh with his wife. He was beginning to believe that the dinner wasn't worth the trouble.

"Oh yes, I'll get the tart and some tea, would you like anything Harry,darling?"

Now that was a red flag "N-no thank you."

"**Mage Sight**" Harry whispered into his napkin.

His yes discreetly scanned the room. Everything gained a colored silhouette, all floating in magic's blue-green wind. Normal at first glance, but then Harry saw it, an oozing black and blood red thread connecting from Aunt Petunia to Mr. Denever. The thread was at a very sedated pace transferring 's jasper and crude oil magic into Petunia's brownish-grey magic. It was about two-thirds full.

"Let me help you with that Aunt Petunia." Harry quickly getting up to assist in the kitchen.

This was beyond weird. Was Mr. Denever a demon or something? Harry was never very religious. He doubted a couple of Hail Marys could undo what was happening to Aunt Petunia.

"Harry sweetheart could you grab that knife from the drawer?"

"S-sure Aunt Petunia."

" The one time she's half decent to me she's under some type of mind control blood magic." He thought, with some dark amusement.

Harry glanced over towards Petunia with Mage Sight he noticed that the crude oil-blood was rising noticeably faster than before. This time it was to her chin.

"I have to warn Uncle Vernon or Dudley." Harry started. "Yeah like they'll believe, Hey Uncle your boss is some type of magic vampire, that's magically violating your wife, raw, no rubber."

Working it over in his head, short term Aunt Petunia is hurt, long term everyone in the house is screwed. Harry quickly thought of a plan, get a reaction big enough that even Uncle Vernon couldn't ignore.

Coming back to the sitting room Aunt Petunia started divining up a raspberry tart. As she was she was cutting the tart Harry reached out and sliced his hand on the kitchen knife. Harry swiftly moved his hand up in mock surprise splattering his blood across Mr. Denever's face.

Vernon's face went through a range of emotions. Then it was stuck on rage.

"BOY! What the devil have you done!" A purple faced Vernon shouted.

He was just about to grab Harry but he was stopped by Dudley frantically tugging his sleeve.

"U-um Da!"

Vernon turned to see Mr. Denever's tongue stretch far longer than physically possible, for a human at least. His tongue stretched all the way to the corners of his forehead down to his neck. Desperately licking away at Harry's blood. His features started getting more and more corrupted. His skin turning into a pasty, macabre masquerade of humanity. His amber eyes getting a hungry glint. A laugh came. It started soft, quickly boiling over into hysterics. Aunt Petunia fainted.

"Oh that was delicious, honestly you could bottle that up." Mr. Denever's tongue reaching back to the tips of his left ear.

"Boy, what did you do?" Vernon's mind only able to blame Harry for the freakishness happening in his house. Including the transforming Bram Stoker antagonist in his living room.

"Are you serious? Yeah, I was the one who invited a Vampire over for dinner." Harry shouted back.

"To be fair Vernon, your family was on the menu the day you put in your resume." Denever cackled.

Vernon snapped. Harry had never seen him move that fast in his life. The result was Mr. Denever slamming into the back wall, taking the coffee table and some dessert with him. Vernon moved back from his rugby tackle and quickly turned to Harry and Dudley.

"Dudley, Boy, run upstairs and block the doors. Don't come out until I call you." Dudley quickly heeded the wise advice. Harry looked back for a second, Dudley grabbed his arm, focusing him back on the task of escaping danger. It didn't take long for Mr. Denever to get back up, cracking his back into place.

"Attacking your supervisor?" Denever started with fake reproval. "I'll have to write up a reprimand for that."

"Treat this as my two week notice." Vernon replied. Reaching down to collect a leg from his now broken coffee table. "No one threatens my family, especially not in my home." Vernon mentally prepared himself for the fight at hand.

Both men began circling each other with Vernon keeping Denever at bay using the reach of his makeshift bat.

Denever chuckled. "Such a shame this was just supposed to be a quiet dinner."

"I hope you get indigestion." Vernon quipped back.

"Well don't expect a good reference for your next job at this rate." Vernon swings at Denever, only for him to slowly dodge out of the way.

"Grunning has given you everything you own, company cars." A swing. A miss. "The deposit on this awful drab house." Another frantic swing knocking over a lamp.

"Everything you own already belongs to me in a sense, I'm just here to collect the debt." The next swing had much more power put into it. Still missed.

"If I knew 18 years ago I was selling my soul to a devil like you I would have doused you in holy water." Vernon replied, swinging once more with all he had."

"That's the life of all wage workers Vernon. You just happened to sell to one of the real ones." Denever caught the weapon and tossed it aside.

"Honestly, you'll be better off as my little blood bank. Your wife agrees."

Vernon grew purple with rage.

"What the hell did you do to Petun-GAkk" Vernon's question was cut short by a knife to his throat. Blood gushing from his neck like a spigot. His last thoughts were of shock and betrayal. Petunia stood behind with vacant eyes. Serving knife still dripping.

Upstairs

Harry was still being tugged along in Dudley's grip, by the time the two reached Vernon and Petunia's room. Dudley immediately dove into the closet, frantically searching for something.

"Dudley." Harry said slowly. Dudley didn't answer he was to busy pulling out a floor board.

"Dudley!" Harry repeated with more force. Dudley jumped, his focus gone from searching the closet. Harry continued after getting Dudley's full attention.

"I-I can get us out of here." Harry forced out. Dudley made a face and looked towards the door.

" What about Mum and Da?" Dudley asked.

Harry shook his head. "I could only take one extra passenger."

Dudley looked down and turned back to the floorboard, he found what he was looking for, Grandpa Brandon's service pistol, an Enfield No. 2. Collecting a hand full of bullets, he held it like his father taught him to do. Nose angled down, fingers on the side away from the trigger until ready to fire. Dudley turned back to Harry.

"I know that they -none of us" Dudley corrected, "have treated you well, I wouldn't mind or be surprised if you left, but I can't leave Mum and Da to that monster if I could do something about it." With that Dudley went out.

Harry stayed put, why didn't he just leave the second danger started. What did Harry gain by staying with the Dursleys, a faster death? Some abuse forged Stockholm syndrome. A glimmering hope of familial bonds.

No.

Harry only wanted the Dursley's to survive for his own selfish reasons. Harry didn't really care if drained them dry, or if they lived the rest of their lives as zombies. Vernon was ultimately right, the best kind, Harry was a parasite on the Dursleys. It didn't excuse their actions, but it did validate the sentiment. Harry folded his legs in meditative pose. He pushed all the self reflection, hate, anger and shame from his mind. He focused on his magic and prepared for the battle ahead.

Then, the power went out.

Downstairs

Dudley was out of his league. As he was tiptoeing towards the stairs. It suddenly went dark. His parents were nowhere to be found. And a psycho killer was roaming his living room. Dudley shakily loaded the Enfield Pistol 6 rounds for a feed would leave him 8 bullets left after that. After loading the 5th bullet in Dudley, reached back into his trouser pockets. His sweaty, shaking, pudgy hands got stuck and spilled the remainder of his ammo into the darkness.

Dudley softly cursed and crawled downstairs, following the breadcrumb trail of bullets. Eventually finding himself in the living room, pawing around for his ammunition. His hands found something sticky. Dudley gasped, the smell on his fingers coppery.

"It's Blood!" Dudley noticed the trail in the low light leading to a large mass.

"Oh God Da!" Dudley began to move towards Vernon, but was stopped by a soft laughter from behind him.

"You should worry about me." Dudley fearfully turned to find Denever slinking out, his softly-glowing predatory eyes marking his location.

"Come now, kölyök" Denever started putting some vampiric charm into his voice. "You'll join your father soon. Dudley's eyes grew dazed. The primal calling from Denever was creeping through his mind crushing his will to fight back and avenge his father. Denever's mouth unhinged as Dudley slowly drew closer.

"I'm going to die, and I can't move my arm to shoot." Dudley panicked mentally screaming at himself in an effort to stop his body.

Each second inching closer and closer to the jaws of a predator, but right as Denever leaned in to take a chunk out of Dudley's flesh a shot fired out striking near his foot shocking Denever and breaking his concentration.

Dudley swiveled his arm around to blast Denever in his chest. The recoil causing both to fall back.

Dudley quickly got back up to his feet, taking another shot in to where he thought was Denever sending a bullet sailing into the shadows .

Suddenly blindsided from his left, Dudley's pistol was knocked away. Dudley dove after the gun, but Denever grabbed the boy.

Dudley quickly scraped his fingers into Denever's eyes making him lose his hold on Dudley's arms, just enough to grab the pistol and fire again this time hitting him in the neck.

Denever stumbled back. Grasping his wound.

Dudley sensing his chance charged Denever slamming him into a wall.

Denever's daze cleared to see the business end of the Enfield.

"For Da." Dudley pulled the trigger, pasting the vampire's head across the floor. The ringing of the shot bleeding into silence.

Dudley slumped down in relief. He expected a neon colored sigh to pop up with a "You Win" in bold letters but was just met with more silence.

Soon a simmering laughter passed through Dudley, bubbling into a roar of hysterics.

"I killed someone." Dudley whispered to the dark room. "He's 's dead. He's DEAD"

Dudley looked down at the vampire's corpse. "I'll be sent to jail, my life is ruined."

Dudley stopped as he noticed the trails of blood slowly flow towards the vampire's corpse. The blood glowing as it cocooned around Denever's body. Steam escaping the wounds.

"No not yet boy. Give me a second and I'll fix that." Denever slowly got to his feet. Glowing ruby tentacles of blood crowning from his bullet wounds pushing them out as they writhed out of his skin like worms.

"I-I thought I killed you."

"Well you did step one, there's still two through ten. Consultation, you got farther than dear old Da." Chided Denever.

Dudley growled.

"Oh too soon."

Dudley responded with an attempt to unload the rest of his rounds and not a small amount of anger into Denever's general area.

He was brought back to his senses by the sound of an empty gun. The chunks of Denver finished fitting back into place, while the vampire started at Dudley with an arrogant gait. Dudley responded by frantically pointing his gun back at Denever in panic. Each desperate pull of the trigger clicking in time with Denver's steps.

Denever stopped in front of Dudley. The next moment Dudley was sent flying into the kitchen by Denever's blood tentacles, smashing him into the oven. Denever was there seconds later mouth unhinged, ready to feast on Dudley when suddenly in a flash of bluish-white sparks Harry appeared mid superman punch slamming his fist into Denever's chest simultaneously unleashing thousands of volts, knocking him away and tearing a chunk out of his midsection.

"Took you...long enough." Dudley wheezed.

An arc of blue electricity shot from Harry's hand turning the tips of his fingers black. He winced. Storing electricity was dangerous, flowing it through your body was suicidal. Harry had thought about controlling lightning after seeing his car crash scar in the mirror. He'd spent the summer practicing this feat by recharging his lamp batteries. He never had this much stored in him before, but needs must and all that.

Harry helped Dudley to his feet.

"Think you can help out."

Dudley responded with reloading the revolver. Both boys nodded.

Denever finally recovered. Harry blinked forward and threw a wild sparking haymaker to the left of Denever's head. Only to blink to the other side when the tentacles moved to block. Slamming an electrifying elbow into the vampire's chin. Denever responded with a tentacle slash at Harry, but was interrupted by cover fire from Dudley.

Harry used the distraction to charge up an arc of lightning, focusing the sparks through his arms to his palms, and arcing them at Denever.

Blood tendrils quickly threw a dining chair to take the brunt of the attack. Shattering into splinters.

Denever used the screen of wood to slam Harry away, inhuman force knocking him into the Dursley's T.V back in the living room.

Dudley made himself known by punching Denever in the face, a sizzling sound could be heard. Denever grasped at his face in pain. Burn marks in the shape of Dudley's ham fist could be seen.

"You like that you freak, garlic knuckles." Dudley taunted. Denever roared, wildly sending tendrils at Dudley. Destroying the rest of the dining room furniture in the process. Dudley took shots but Denever knocked them all away.

"Enough." Denever then used his blood tentacles to grab Dudley by his leg and hoist him upside down.

Tendrils poised to skewer Dudley.

Dudley smirked. "I think you've missed the point." Denever heard a sound similar to a drill. Looking around he found the bullets he deflected glowing with a blue light, spinning with electricity. Behind that, bloodied Harry Potter giving his best death glare.

"**Magic Missile**" Harry growled out. Clapping his hands together sending the magically charged bullets out turning Denever into swiss cheese.

The blood tentacles hit the floor with a splat, becoming trails of blood without vampire will power to control them. Pieces of Denever's skin peeled off in globs. For a second it looked like the boys had survived.

Only for the body to turn into Aunt Petunia.

"MUM!"

Dudley's cry went on deaf ears when out of the shadows a bone white figure smashed both boys into the now thoroughly destroyed living room.

Harry, gassed from that last attack, managed to roll out of the way of a vicious stomp from Denever, but was caught in the side by a follow up kick, knocking him near the remains of the living room coffee table.

Harry got a glimpse of the beast. Almost all of the charming man from dinner was destroyed. In his place stood an ivory Nosferatu. Shriveled skin, jagged ears, a slobbering jaw filled with two rows of fangs, haggish fingers, and large bug eyes. Quite an ugly surprise. At least he kept the amber eye color.

Harry scanned for a way out.

"Finally," Devener croaked "My dessert is here."

Dessert? Dessert!

There. A turned over plate of Petunia's raspberry tart.

Harry quickly scooped up some of the knocked over dessert, flicking a glob at Denever. Tagging him in the eyes. Harry used the distraction to charge the rest of his stored electricity and magic into his fist.

"Think of weeding the garden." Harry whispered to himself.

With a scream of pain and determination Harry lanced his fist into Denever's heart unleashing the last of his stored power, resulting in an explosion of magical force smashing every window in the house.

Harry opened his eyes to see poking out of many parts of Denever's body were thick raspberry brambles. He'd somehow flash grown raspberry seeds from the tart filling into what was thousands of magically charged wooden stakes.

Harry tiredly pulled his hand from the vampire's chest.

He was only given a few seconds rest as Denever's body erupted into sky blue flames. The blast engulfing Harry.

* * *

Harry scrambled to his feet. Wobbling a bit from the sudden loss of magic and the slow pooling of blood.

Harry was… in a tent? On a makeshift cot. His wounds were bandaged up and his clothes were only a little singed. Harry collected his things and made his way to the tent flap.

Looking around he could tell he was a safe distance away from the inferno, the EMS was bringing in the elderly and others suffering from smoke inhalation or various burns. Harry was easily able to sneak away in the chaos. Off in the distance the fire, changed from sky blue to a glowing orange, was spreading to other houses on the street. Catching on all the debris made from the house's destruction. Harry rushed to find Dudley.

"Woah kid where's the fire." A man in uniform stopped him, with a hand to his shoulder.

"I have to find my cousin." Harry tried to shake him off, but the cop was not letting him go that easily.

"Ah huh, and what would be your "cousin's" name?" The cop had a self-satisfied smile, probably still laughing at his own joke.

"Dudley, Dudley Dursley." The cop's smile vanished and Harry's stomach dropped.

"Ah… so you would be the infamous Harry Potter, I've heard a lot about you from the neighborhood."

"Nothing good." Harry thought. The cop continued. "Rumor had it that a gunshot was heard just a few minutes before this fire started." He paused. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, now would you son?"

"Nothing at all, sir." Harry tried a poker face. Only to be met with the officer writing down in his notes.

"That's unfortunate. We'll have to discuss this more back at the station, you and your cousin." The officer wrote one final line.

"I'll go and collect him, don't move from this spot." Walking off towards the crowd of people watching the spectacle of the fire.

Harry was immediately freaking out. Thoughts of making plans to book it was the only solid footing his mind. Where would he go? Was he just going to run from the law for the rest of his life? Privet Drive and law enforcement already declared him guilty, and Harry wasn't betting on the vampire story. He could make out a plan as he went along. He needed to find Dudley first. Looking around for any sign of the constable Harry went out towards the crowd.

"Harry Potter is coming in for questioning and that's final!" The voice of the officer came from behind one of the fire engines. Harry stopped and went flat to the side of the engine as quietly as possible.

"You don't understand Constable Hammond, Harry Potter is coming with us." Harry peeked around to find two oddly dressed men in what looked like modified bath robes. One pulled out a stick while the other continued.

"Harry Potter is a person of interest for our community and as such must be brought to the proper authorities."

"I am the proper authorities, Harry Potter is a menace to society and must receive the proper help or be locked away."

"Be that as it may." The second man raised his stick. "We only need to know where he is."

"_Legilimens_." The second man's stick shined brightly for a moment and Harry felt the sensation of magic being used. Another moment passed and the now named Constable Hammond was on the ground huffing in pain.

"Wha-what did you do to me?" Hammond breathed out.

The first man didn't look down. "Nothing you'll remember, _Obliviate_." A final flash of light.

Constable Hammond looked dazed, moving towards the engine to support himself. He just stood there blinking and swooning.

"Potter was told to stay near the tents, he was on his way to grab Potter's Muggle cousin, and bring them both in for questioning." The Legilimens man spoke.

"We only really need Potter the other one can burn with the neighborhood." Obliviate answered. Both men walked off towards the tent area.

Harry bolted. He needed to find Dudley now! Pushing through the crowd of spectators, not caring for the indignant squeaks from the community that threw him to the wolves. The panic was rising in him again.

He saw Dudley kneeling by Petunia. The firemen clearly given up attempting to move him for now.

"Dudley we need to leave!" Harry stage whispered a safe ways away from the growing flames and inky smoke. Firemen trying their hardest to fight the flames wildly spreading to the various houses, but the flames hadn't stopped since.

"Dudley stop being an idiot, and let's go." Harry scolded reaching for Dudley's arm.

"I'm not abandoning them." Easily shaking out of Harry's grip.

"You aren't. You're continuing your own life, you twat. It's what they would want."

"And how would you know?" Dudley finally turned to face Harry. "What is it Potter? That my parents died protecting me, huh? They didn't die for shite, they were murdered by some freak."

"And so now you're gonna curl up in a ball next to a burning house? Cut the dramatics this isn't Crossroads." The fire flared up again, another house.

"You were ready to fuck off the moment you could!"

"Well I didn't, I risked my life saving you all."

Dudley gestured wildly around them. "Well excellent job Mr. Wizard. You really saved the day."

Harry looked over to see the weirdly dressed men searching for them.

"Dudley, keep it down. See those men in robes. One of them mind wiped the bobby that asked me what happened. They're searching for us."

"Y-You don't know that." Dudley glanced over to see the men start to zero in on their location.

"I know what I heard!"

"Hey! You two!" A yell Harry recognized as the mind-wiper man.

"Dudley, run!"

The boys sprinted off, the robed men's shouting behind them. Harry knew they would give chase. What he didn't count on was a growl of "Fuck this muggle trash." And for the men to raise their sticks with a shout of _Stupify_.

Harry and Dudley were shot at with a red light. Harry didn't know what red bolts were but the feeling he got from them was numbing static. Very firmly placing them in the "don't get hit by" category.

Dudley only whined as the bolt nearly grazed him. Harry grabbed Dudley's hand to turn a corner into an alleyway. Harry was hit with a strong case of deja vu. Dudley started to panic. They were trapped. Dudley started yelling at Harry, for getting them cornered. The men with sticks no doubt encircling them. Harry did what he found to be the best in these situations.

He thought of getting as far away as possible.

With a great popping sound the boys vanished.

Harry couldn't feel his left leg. Oh, there it was, it just took a little longer for it to travel with him, it was another reason that he didn't do long distances. Blinking a few hundred times within an hour certainly didn't help. He didn't know where he was, but it felt and smelled like a London backstreet. His head was swimming. Black spots cutting into his vision.

"Oy kid you okay." Harry heard from the low light. He couldn't even turn his head to attempt to see who it was. As Harry went into the darkness the last thing he heard was,

"We gotta get him to Moth, he'll know how to h-."

* * *

**Somewhere, Sometime in the Summer of 1988**

Shrouded from mundane view by a curiously autumn forest, a small dirt and gravel road leads deep into the blended orange, brown and reds of the leaves. Past many glowing eyes of birds and beasts lay a clearing. Here stood a castle. Crafted with care in a Romanesque style, an imposing withered grey wall and three similarly colored towers with chocolate brown cone tops capping them off. Half dead vines coiling around them. Spilling down both the towers and wall to cover the only entry way.

Cautiously creeping down the gravel path was a black 1960s Wartburg 311. Two visibly unarmed guards motioned for the car to stop. One marched towards the driver's side. The window cautiously rolled down to produce a nervously shaking hand with a stylised business card in its grip. The guard quickly examining the card and with a growing smile looking towards the inside of the

"The Mistress is expecting you, try not to become dinner like the last few disrespectful bunch."

"We'll bow at the cue cards." A calm voice from the passenger side rang out

After a look of faux confidence from the driver's side the gates were slowly opened.

"The jaws of the beast." Spoke the passenger.

Driving up the way, the passenger side opened to show a man in fine black with silver accented priest robes. He was of average height and slim build, he had a square shaped head with an unpronounced chin and stormy grey eyes that were constantly skimming for danger. Camdenn Cullen, squib turned man of the cloth. For the last decades doing a careful balancing act between several masters. He was currently doing a death march towards one of his less... humane, leash holders. He idly thought about how he got in this mess, ah yes the choice of this, Azkaban, The Hellsing Celler, or the Pits. He shivered at the last two. Azkaban took your soul, the Celler your body, and the Pits, if there was anything human left of you the Pits collected the rest. His worrying ended as he was stopped at the door.

"Foci, wand, guns, and or sidearms." A burly, smushed-faced man boredly called out. He had no doubt had to repeat this line several times today. Father Cullen reluctantly put his cross in a plastic bin. His last line of tangible defense against the predators around him. The moment he did every guard in the general area, looked at him at once and smiled, some showing their pointy shark-like teeth.

"Thank you." The bored voice called out. "You know where to go." With that the door opened to the castle. Soft candlelight led the way through a forest of marble columns. Father Cullen could see various servants, bustling about cleaning or guarding hallways, some holding a young man or woman in their arms while closing into their necks hungrily. Father Cullen looked away quickly and made his way to an open ballroom area.

The walls were dark grey with layers of bone-white pronounced archways. Each layer of arches getting smaller the further up one looked. The second layer of arches even had a few balconies. The rest of the walls were adorned with stained glass and alcoves of blue flamed torches that cast more shadow than lighting. The ceiling had a pattern of the night sky without the moon, and the floors were a gray stone. Father Cullen gave these features a once over spotting the guards in the shadows of the balcony, both with machine guns. He took note of them and continued to the end of the room.

There in a throne sat a pale lady. Wearing a long, black victorian gown, dark enough to extinguish the tiniest bit of light from the shadowy room. On her head a horned black veil, with coal colored roses adorning each side. Dignified pearls parting through her hair and down the sides of her face, waterfalling into the tar black ruff around her neck. On her chest lay a silver cross twitching hungrily at her new guest. Her black makeup contrasting perfectly with her eggshell skin. She looked to be in her early thirties, but the aura that oozed out of the darkness told him of a time long ago where she and other monsters like her were allowed to roam free. He couldn't shiver, she would feel the fly struggling in her web. He couldn't sweat, she would taste his anxiety. He'd try his best not to at least look like prey.

Straight face, chin up, steel your eyes, don't give her anything.

"I bring bad news Ash Lady, Denever and possibly his operation have been destroyed." The shadows surrounding her shifted as if raising a brow.

"I also have knowledge of his killers. Two boys, one of them is Harry Potter." At this the shadow hissed in wrothful anger. Father Cullen laughed inside at getting a rise from the Ash Lady even if was just her shadow. He continued.

" He is currently undefended, lost somewhere in the London Area. The British Ministry and The Order of the Phoenix, have no idea what has happened." The shadow stopped.

"Denever and his brood were the last well established Black Court Scourge in the Greater London Area, the rest are unorganized or shackled, it would be easy for your Scourge to move in to fill the power vacuum." Father Cullen finished.

For a slogged minute there was no sound, no motion from the shadows. Then the Lady spoke.

"Ambrus, come." Her charcoal lips barely moving.

Not a moment later a small boy, eerily similar looking to Father Cullen moved to deliver a package and a letter.

The Chernobog, Isabella von Carstein, was pleased. The hunt would begin, and her collection would grow. But first...a snack.

The Vampiress dove at the boy's neck. Draining him in seconds.

Father Cullen didn't look away this time, the message was clear. Deliver Harry Potter, or become useful in other ways.

Chapter 2 Moth to a Flame


	2. Moth to Flame

**Edited May 4th 2020: It was kinda scuff.**

**Hogwarts Castle, Scotland June 1988**

When Albus Dumbledore got up from his four poster bed today, he felt solemn. The term for Hogwarts this year was long over and the joyful atmosphere of the castle was quickly draining away. He could no longer play the whimsical headmaster, gone were his colorful polka-dotted robes, he was forced to his more serious blue moon and star patterned ones. Was he attending another funeral?

Even the castle reverted back to its drab and regal form. No moving staircases, no random doors to forgotten wings, not even some tasty gossip from the paintings. Just the sounds of professors, ambassadors and researchers, busing about. Couldn't they ever stop to smell the roses?

Albus sighed. He'd been Headmaster long enough to watch a majority of them grow from bright eyed children to bloodied calculating adults. Was this the fate of a wizard? To live long enough to watch joy escape you?

Albus Dumbledore was definitely old enough to find out. So he had learned after his reckless youth to enjoy the bits of happiness fought for. You never know when it would be too late.

Sitting down into his comfy office chair he was surprised by a letter from Fawkes, his phoenix companion.

"Ah Fawkes, you're looking lively today." Albus smiled at his oldest companion.

The old fire chicken was a few years off from a reincarnation or "burning day", and he definitely looked like it. Fawkes warbled an absolutely elderly sounding song while fire flashing back to his stoop perch, job completed.

Albus turned it over reading it was from an Arabella Figg, his muggle world informant. Was it time for the monthly correspondence all ready?

No.

Dread filled him, only one thought in his mind.

"Harry." he spoke aloud.

The letter felt heavier. He steeled himself, the fight was never over it seems. He read the letter twice over. Once to get over the shock, the second to pick it for information. Harry Potter was gone, drifted away somewhere in muggle London. Arabella, noted that her house and several others had burned down in a fire that was magically charged. Needing the collaboration of several magical and muggle organizations to finally put it out.

Obliviation squads and a few headlines about gas lines seemed to have cooled public relations. But Harry Potter and his cousin fled the scene, apparition trackings showed he was brought to the London Area, but nothing else. Albus could work with that, he would just have to owl his contacts and-.

The Floo rang with a lime green flame. Albus had a few precious moments to stash away his letter before the two figures burst through the flames.

One was an imposing figure, tall but not lanky, with a top hat that made him look even taller. He had a large pyramid nose, a sort of tilted black mustache and too big ears for his thin face. His eyes even this early in the morning were sharp and calculating. The second figure stumbled sheepishly out of the fire. A more stout man with a second chin, thin lips and thinning blond hair. His eyes were just as focused but with a weariness of someone afraid of attack.

"Ah Barty, Cornelius, you're both here early today. Lemon Drop?" Albus swiftly fixed the nicknacks on his desk motioning to the bowl of sweets in front. Crouch declined, Fudge took two.

"We're here on account of the Harry Potter incident." Crouch growled out. He didn't fancy the idea of crawling back to Dumbledore's knee, like he used to when he was a young Auror cadet. He was Head Auror and next in line to be Minister of Magic damn it!

"The Muggle Prime Minister is having a fit about the whole ordeal." Fudge squeaked out. The portly man didn't have much confidence in himself so he teamed up with Barty Crouch as a supporter. Poor man, he'd never be Minister of Magic with such low confidence.

"The demands of the muggle government are being used as a rallying cry for more influence in the Wizengamot from the Dark political sphere." Fudge said in between popping fistfuls of lemon drops into his mouth. Albus wanted to make a face but a century of discipline kept him neutral.

"It's becoming another Walpurgis uprising in the making." Crouch confirmed. Albus knew all too well, about what a group of rowdy wizards could do.

Thatcher and many others weren't too pleased about wizards only answering to the crown directly and since the end of WWII, which coincided with the rise of Gellert Grindelwald, decided to increasingly push for more government control over Magical Britain. Which only fueled the influence and rational of monsters like Voldemort.

"Harry Potter was supposed to be safely tucked away so that we wouldn't have to deal with these types of situations, Dumbledore!" Fudge huffed finding some courage in numbers. He was silenced by a glance from Albus, and recoiled back.

"S-so we're telling you the Ministry is issuing a warrant for the capture of Harry Potter." Fudge squawked out. "You are to notify us if you find any evidence of his whereabouts."

Crouch glanced at Fudge then continued. "We can't afford more pressure on Magical Britain, not during election season and not when we're still on the march." Crouch licked his lips in exasperation. "The Ministry must be seen strong." The air thinned.

"You would have me sacrifice a boy, one that has to endure the worst of our society and beyond as an infant!" Dumbledore's eyes glowed with a seemingly endless well of power, each word supported with a flare of magic fully sending Fudge to a fetal position. Crouch fared much better, he was pushed many feet back.

"We've all had to pay our pound of flesh Dumbledore." The force of Albus's magic barely allowed him to breath. "You've done far worse, what happened to your Greater Good?"

The magic surrounding him was dropped. An unfelt wind of magic letting the various knick knacks from the desk fall back to the ground with a defeated thud.

"Yes Barty I suppose you're right." Albus seemed to look all his 107 years of age.

Fawkes tried to lift his spirit with a warble, but the power of a phoenix couldn't remove years of guilt and bloodied hands, not now at least.

"I think it would be best if the both of you were to leave, Hogwarts is no place for politics." Dumbledore calmly spoke, moving his desk back in order a third time this morning.

Fudge quickly made his way to the fire place, Crouch chose a slower gait. With a snort he spoke.

"What happened in these walls is far worse than anything in the Wizengamot, simply going to Hogwarts **is** politics." The Floo took both men away. With Albus left only to his thoughts. He looked over to one of his many trinkets one with the name of a hopeful student. Harry Potter, Status: Unknown.

"I'm sorry my boy." Albus breathed out. "So sorry."

* * *

Pomona Sprout made it to the Faculty Meeting Room. She had been enjoying the summer vacation in the green house. She'd recently obtained a few samples of a foreign species of fungus from the portal regions. Hours of research to be had with that morsel. That slowed to a snail once this emergency meeting was sprung. Did Albus lose sight of his stash of muggle candy again?

Honestly that man. To think she used to fancy the old coot, offered to make a few heirs for House Dumbledore too. Albus only declined the first time. But Pomona knew his heart wasn't in it though. It still belonged to Grindelwald, years after their legendary duel. She wasn't upset though, losing to someone like Grindelwald wasn't the worst thing, for all his heinous acts the man was attractive in many ways.

She shook her head and looked over to her fellow colleagues; they all were in the same boat as her. Flitwick was preparing his summer dueling team for their circuit tour. He was also resting from his own scheduled bout against the up and coming dueling champion Mustar Al-Maji of Oman. Flitwick won but not nearly as spectacularly as he used to. The question of whether or not he still had it in him was spreading across the circuit. So the training of his dueling team was the utmost priority for him.

Minerva was looking as busy as she normally did. Pomona worried for her old friend she'd been burying herself in work since the last clan McGonagall had been slain. She did not seem to be very comfortable with the lack of distraction at the moment. With no Gryffindors to coddle and no paperwork to deal with, Minerva was looking like a sad cat rather than her normal Scottish lion persona.

And Severus was just being Severus.

"You've all been called here for urgent news." Albus called for their attention. "Harry Potter is missing."A gasp spread across the room.

"We know that his place of residence was attacked with a magical flame. The fire spread and in the chaos Mr. Potter disappeared. We aren't sure whether it was voluntary or not." Albus finished causing the room to grow in uproar. Albus silenced them with a wave of his hand.

"The Ministry of Magic, in its wisdom, has declared it their jurisdiction. I'm informing you all purely because of the relationships you've had with Mr. Potter's parents." Better he give them the news now then they learn randomly later.

"If the boy is anything like Lily he'll be fine, if he's like his bastard of a father nothing of value will be lost." Severus drawled out. Minerva sniffed. Pomona tried to motion for her to not let Severus get a rise out of her, but it was too late.

"Severus, do not speak ill of James Potter in my presence." Her words carried a magical heat with them, as only a Gryffindor could.

"Don't let your fondness for his wand allow you to ignore the fact that James Potter was an arrogant, insufferable jackass. He and the rest of his band of hooligans." Snape spat.

"James wis a mair than adequate wizard dinnae be mad ye cuid ne'er kip Lily." Minerva's Scottish accent flaring up to the accusation.

"Severus, Minerva, please. You're both professors, not squabbling students in the Great Hall." Albus spoke. Hoping to stop the argument before wands were pulled out. Both of them settled down back to their respective chairs. Albus sighed. Flillus and Pomona shook their heads.

"So Albus what's the plan?" Fillus finally spoke up. The death of his prized students hit him the hardest, the idea that the only connection to them had gone too, was too much to bare. He quietly mourned, as was the goblin way.

"We can't be seen openly subverting Ministry authority, but we can still search for Harry's whereabouts." Albus looked around expectantly at everyone. "I'll talk to my contacts in the London area, I advise you all to do the same, but this information is on a need to know basis. Remain discrete."

They all nodded. Pomona couldn't help but think of all the commotion Harry caused and he wasn't even enrolled yet. She feared to think on what kind of trouble he would get into as a student and if he was anything like his father they'd have to barricade the broom closets. Still she'd put feelers out for the boy. Merlin knows the unsavory characters prowling Magical Britain.

**Unknown, Unknown **

Harry woke up to find himself in a storage room of some sort. How did he know? Well as far as he could see dust covered boxes and crates covered his vision. He looked down to find he was currently laid on two large boxes with a blanket thrown over them. Effective? Yes. Comfortable? Not a chance.

Harry was starting to feel like his blacking out and waking in strange, unfamiliar places was starting to become a trend for him. Very concerning for an almost eight year old boy, but Harry guessed that it was a part of being not normal. As he slowly threw the blanket off, Harry's body protested his getting up. He was feeling the same way he did a day after he first started exercising.

"Magic is like a muscle." Harry thought. That made sense, he never used more than a tiny bit at one time. The Denever incident forced him to use far more than his self prescribed dose. You never knew where a bit of magic could get you out of a jam. Coupled with the fear that Harry would wake up and find himself in his cupboard under the stairs with his magic being all just a dream forced him to treat magic like everything else he had, with careful rationing.

He was starting to find himself relying on Magic more and more often. Harry frowned. He would have to wean himself off this habit, but now was not that time.

Harry tried to force more magic to sooth his aching bones, the resulting pain was unbearable. His body locked up, sending him to the ground. The dust of the storeroom flew up as he bounced on the concrete.

He groaned. This magic shite was starting to be more trouble than it was worth.

Harry lamented on how soft he'd gotten, the ease of magic spoiling his resolve. He'd dealt with Dursley abuse and ostracization before magic and, damn it, he would deal with future consequences without it.

A small part of his mind laughed, yes of course he would've survived something like Denever without magic's help. Harry's frown deepened. Magic apparently made him too proud in his skills as well.

Looking around for something to pry himself up with, Harry found a sort of makeshift night stand with a newspaper neatly folded on top. He grabbed it in hope it would give some clarity. The day's date was an eye opener. A week had passed since that fateful night. The headline however was more alarming.

_Surrey Set Ablaze by Samuel Cooke._

_Last week, on the 19th of June at 10pm, a fire erupted in the suburbs of Surrey. The smoke and flames could be seen from miles away. Several families have been displaced from the incident. The cause was determined to be from a gas leak, from a local home. _

_The house in reference was said to be owned by one Vernon Dursley, respectable member of the Grunting Drill Company. He and his wife Petunia were victims of the incident. Vernon Dursley's son and nephew were not found in the search and are presumed dead (more on pg.6). Vernon and Petunia are survived by Vernon's sister Marjorie Dursley, currently facing 10 years on several accounts of animal abuse, breeding without a license and assault (more on page 13)..._

Harry went further into the newspaper, flipping through it with speed. This didn't bode well for Harry's or Dudley's immediate futures. The paper claimed they died in the fire, but he was more than sure several of their neighbors saw them run from the mind wipers.

The sound of boots stopping directly by his head was what brought him out of his thoughts.

Harry looked up to find a rather old man. From bottom to top he was dressed in a pair of frilly cream colored stockings that went into a maroon-purple frock coat. Next was his long gray mane of hair, a wide nose and wild silver eyes. An impressive man, but Harry figured that his current position had to do with most of that.

"Hello, I've noticed your floor is awfully dusty, and would it kill you to cut on the heater, my face is an ice cube."

The wild eyes of the man focused down on Harry. "I'm afraid to say that, "turning on the heater" as you put it just might kill us both Mr. Potter." The man finished with a genuine smile very concerning given his morbid information.

Harry looked up, eyebrow raised. "How do you know my name?" The first book Harry read on magic warned Harry that names held power and that he should never give his out. So he didn't. He was just Harry anyway, no more no less.

The older gentleman nodded then looked deep in thought. "I see your cousin was telling the truth then."

"You've talked to Dudley?" He found the strength to move his neck. "Wait, where's Dudley?" His suspicion replaced with concern and an emotion that confused Harry.

The old man's eyes focused again. "Oh don't worry about him he's almost off the clock soon." The old man helped Harry up back onto the boxes. Harry laid down even more confused.

"Okay that still doesn't answer either of my questions. Could you start by answering how you know my name?"

The old man pulled up another smaller box to sit on. "Okay then Mr. Potter, what do you know about your heritage?' It was a harmless question, but it was delivered with an air of mystery. "I take it you've noticed the **unusual** happenstances around you, hm?"

"Oh, you mean the magic."

The old man's jaw slightly dropped. "Oh, um yes actually." He coughed out.

"Yeah, I'm a wizard." Harry calmly spoke. The sky was blue, Vernon cheated on his taxes, Harry was a wizard. No big deal.

"So you already... know?" The old man looked disappointed.

"And what about your parents?" The old man started, Harry had no real response other than what the Dursleys told him.

"Uh, my parents died in a car crash?" Harry answered unsurely. The silver eyes grew sharp. Their madness temporarily forgotten.

"No, Mr. Potter, James and Lily Potter were two of the most accomplished, brave and talented wizards of their generation. For something as mundane as a simple car crash to end them would be an irony so cruel I refuse to think about it as a possibility." The old man took a calming breath.

"Your parents died protecting you from the greatest Dark Lord of the modern era. In an event that you are famous for.

"So I'm famous because my parents were murdered." Harry's voice was small and defeated. He had come to terms with his parents death long ago, but to hear it was too much.

"Again no, Mr. Potter you are famous because you survived." The old man sat up straighter. "You need to understand the Dark Lord and his followers were ruthless. Like boogeymen of old they attacked without notice. Entire linages gone in a night. All with complete anonymity, and the Dark Lord himself an unbeatable wizard wielding forbidden magics. They were invincible. Until you Mr. Potter. Through Merlin or might **you **freed us from the nightmare of Lord Voldemort." The lights flickered ominously for a moment. Harry's scar slightly twinged with pain.

"I don't know about that." Harry backed up. He was feeling very overwhelmed from the sudden information.

"This sounds like the part of the story where you tell me I'm the child of prophecy or something like that." He looked over to the old man. "Is it that part yet because I don't want to be in the story anymore." Those types often faced constant mortal danger or died heroically, and Harry was allergic to death.

"Mr. Potter." The old man started. Harry cut him off.

"No." Harry got off the bed with great effort. "I refuse." He simply replied as he got to his feet and made for the door, using the crates of the storage room to keep himself steady.

"Then what will you do when more of our world comes calling. Will you run again?"

Harry turned from his precarious position. "I'm thinking of it."

The old man's silver eyes grew soft. "Whether you like it or not, you are The-Boy-Who-Lived. A Beacon of Hope. A living legend within our culture. And there are and will be people and organizations who would wish to use you, or do you harm."

Harry looked the old man in the eyes. Shining jade versus wild silver. "And what about you, what's your lot in all of this?"

"Allow me to introduce myself." With a flourish the old man began. "My name is Garrick Geraint Ollivander. My runic name being Olive Moth, and I deal in death Mr. Potter."

Harry sniffed derisively. "So why help me?"

Ollivander swallowed thickly. "I come from a long family of wand makers. They came with the legions to the isles and set up shop. I followed in my family's steps and became one of the best" Ollivander gave a small smile but it faded as he continued. "And in my many years of work, I still remember every wand I've made."

He spread apart Harry's fringe of hair to show his lightning bolt shaped scar.

"Including the one that gave you this scar. A wand wielded by man that did great things. Terrible yes, yet great." Harry nodded with some understanding.

"So consider this Mr. Potter a small retribution for all the blood on my hands. The desires of a foolish old man."

Harry thought about it for a while, he couldn't completely trust the old man, but it was better than nothing. Harry took his hand.

"**I accept.**" A faint trail of magic sealed the deal. He winced.

"Excellent, now come we and your cousin have a few things to discuss." Olivander passed a walking cane, well more of a crude length of dark wood, pulled from somewhere. Harry happily took it. Walking hurt a little less for the moment.

Harry didn't know what the future held, he just hoped that things would settle down.

* * *

"And when you're done with those, you'll have to categorize the wood by quality, before a final inventory check." An older boy, about 15, dressed in a supervisors vest called down from a workstation.

A strained "Yes sir." Was wheezed out.

Dudley didn't know what he was getting into when he agreed to this job, but manual labor wasn't high on the list. He stopped to catch his breath in the wood shop.

Several kids of all ages worked the saws and lathes. The older ones shared jokes with each other. Most of the younger workers were in the same boat as Dudley, forced to tarry along with various woods and materials. However, while they were all in groups, Dudley was the new odd man out. He didn't mind much though, it gave him more time to busy himself. He wasn't supposed to talk about magic to the others, Mr. Moth told him as much.

He was finding it a very hard rule to follow.

A hint about fanged teeth here, a snark about bloodsuckers there. Nothing too obvious but Dudley couldn't find any recognition in any of the kids that bothered to talk to him. Getting barely acknowledged by his peers was better than venting all his problems to his comatosed cousin. A cousin that chose now of all times to leave him with the heavy lifting, after transporting them clear across London.

He sort of resented Harry. But that was Dudley's pride talking. Harry and his brand of freakishness was what got them out alive that day, he was the powerless dead weight.

Dudley started to get up to his feet, the long planks of wood hoisted to his shoulders. He remembered the second reason he agreed to this job, work would take his mind off of things. He'd heard that some people bury problems in alcohol, but since he was too young he'd drown in work, as his Da used to say.

After delivering a few more shipments of wood to the shop storage, Dudley started the long task of counting the various types of wood, a torture reserved only for the lowest bowels hell.

"Hey new kid." Dudley's supervisor walked up behind him. "Sod off will ya, Mr. Moth wants you to head to his office."

Dudley looked confused. "What for?"

The older kid turned hostile. "The hell do you mean what for? If he wants you to do a flip off London bridge you'll bloody do it. Now get your arse up there, before we treat you the same way we do everyone that doesn't respect Mr. Moth's kindness."

Dudley didn't back down. And for a faint second, it seems like a fight was boiling up. Many of the kids stopped work to see the new kid learn the pecking order. Dudley read the room, took a deep breath and did what he does best.

"Well then you can keep this." He calmly passed his count sheet over to the older boy. "It may be a little hard for you, you'll have to count higher than 3 to actually do this job."

A murmur of laughter could be heard behind him as he made his way towards the office. A yell for people to get back to work ended them. Sometimes all you needed in life were the little things.

* * *

The door opened, cautiously.

"Yes, yes come in Dudley. We have quite a bit to discuss." He shuffled in.

The office was just as peculiar as it was the last few times he'd been in there. Various different schematics, an empty old style inkpot, complete with quill and half finished designs, splayed over a mahogany desk. One stained with multiple ink splotches. The walls were decorated with multiple certifications, maybe a diploma, and paintings, who's eyes seemed to follow your every movement. It all added up to an unnerving sight when walking in the first few times.

Dudley looked over to find three rather comfy looking chairs in the corner of the room, spotting Mr. Moth and a familiar looking face.

"Harry!" Dudley ran over to his cousin only to stop short, embarrassed and blushing. "I see you're doing alright."

Harry gave an unsure smile and waived his walking cane. "I've dealt with worse." Harry began but stopped once he realized where that train of thought was going. Vernon once broke his leg in a rage when Harry was 6. Dudley was going to say something but was stopped by the third person in the room.

"That's enough dallying, I've called you boys here today to talk about your futures." They both nodded.

"As you have told me Dudley and what I've confirmed via Harry and my sources, you boys are currently homeless minors, that may or may not have every member of the Black Court in the isles looking for you, not to mention Magical Britain's government and various other unsavory types."

"Wait, I get why they're after me but why Dudley?"

"Magic recognized both of you as the participants and victors for your...scuffle." Olivander struggled to find the word. "When you delivered the final blow to the vampire, you did so under conquest. As your right, a piece of Denever's essence is attached to yours. And naturally everyone knows it."

"So we've been marked." Harry piped up. "Just great, any side effects?"

"Just prestige mostly. Shame you couldn't get a trophy, that would at least have had some use." Olivander rattled on for a bit. "But I digress, the situation has added some peculiar news.

"Get to the point." Dudley was never very patient. Olivander frowned. Then coughed in his hand, the younger generations just got ruder with each iteration.

"Well Mr. Dursley it would seem that you are a Squib." Olivander finished with one of his dramatic flourishes.

"So I'm a freak now?" The concern was growing in his voice. Harry gave him a harsh look.

"Mr. Dursley you are not a freak, nor will you be able to practice magic like Harry or I could, you are, scientifically speaking no different than any other human, however you have the recessed magical gene. Which brings me to the real reason I've brought you here. I wish to take you both on as apprentices."

"No school!" Both boys shouted excitedly. Ollivander shook his head.

"No you will both be receiving tutoring alongside the other boys in the workshop. I just so happen to have the certification to teach you both legally in the muggle and magical ways, I expect you both to excel in all of your courses."

Both boys huffed. "You just gave us extra work." Dudley started. "This was a trap." Harry chimed in.

"Ah ah ah, none of the sass boys. You need more than guts and mindless strength to make it in life, and trust me when I say the knowledge of both worlds will support each other." Ollivander clapped his hands.

"Now, time for some light reading boys." Ollivander waved his hand and a blank wall in the office opened up to reveal a walk-in closet filled with shelves of tomes, a few desks, an old fashioned chalkboard, and what looked like a stairway to a basement.

Ollivander swished his finger in a corkscrew and two large stacks of books formed and gently laid down in the arms of both boys. Dudley grunted, Harry nearly fell over before supporting himself on the cane.

"I expect those to be finished before the end of the month, you'll both report here at 5:00pm every day except weekends. Saturday is from 7:00am to 2:00pm, Sunday you rest. And you'll both be working off your room and board for your stay. I'm charitable not a charity."

Ollivander left to go do what Ollivanders did. Talking to himself along the way. Dudley looked over to Harry from behind his stack. "Good goin' Potter."

"Fuck off Dudley."

**August 1988 London Heathrow Airport **

"Flight 338 from Berlin your baggage is at carousel three, Flight 338 from Berlin your baggage is at carousel three, thank you." A woman's voice blared off the intercom. A smartly dressed woman and her child were coming back from a holiday to the continent.

Her son wanted to wear his wizard's hat today and while Halloween was months away she felt there was no harm in indulging him. The people on the plane got a laugh out of it and it kept him quiet the whole ride so it was a child ran around his mother more than happy to stretch his legs after the flight. The woman smiled.

"Sweetheart be careful not to run into anyone." Her son was only focused on his toy plane making the "proper" noises as he bolted forward. Slamming into a firm black object, he never saw, falling over onto his rear with a grunt. His toy plane disappeared into the crowded terminal.

"Ouch." The boy looked up to find a blonde haired priest. "Oh, I'm sorry sir." The priest just looked him up and down and forced a perfectly charming smile, not that the kid would notice.

"Peace my child, where are your parents?" Said mother quickly ran over quickly picking up her child by the arm.

"I'm so sorry Father, he was supposed to watch where he was going." She said ending with a strong look towards the child in question.

"That is fine my child. We all know how hyperactive the young ones can be." At this time his deacon came back with the toy plane handing it to the priest.

"Please remember my child to temper his imagination in the future." She followed his eyes to her son's hat. "Just as the Good Book says, thou shall not suffer a witch to live." He passed back the toy plane. The woman nodded in embarrassment.

"Y-yes Father." The woman gathered her child and made a hasty retreat.

Father Cullen turned and walked off, deacon with luggage in tow.

"Father we've organized our groups for finding Harry Potter if you give the word we can-"

"No." Father Cullen interrupted. "Harry Potter is a bargaining chip at best, one that has yet to ripen. The Ash Lady wants him before he is in the clutches of the wand wavers and locked away in their school. We have plenty of time to plant our trap." Father Cullen thought for a moment before heading through the automatic doors.

"What can you tell me about those around him?"

**December 1st 1988**

"Again." The sounds of swords being pulled out and readied rang through the room. Ollivander pulled out his wand, swirling it across a vat of darkened oil.

"_Ἔχω_ (ékhō)" He said sharply. The Greek charm rolling off his lips with a familiarity.

The oil spilled out with a dribbling sound, pooling, and congealing into a gelatinous form until it took the shape of a medium sized humanoid. Black as tar and no other facial features except glowing yellow eyes.

It looked over to its master, nodding with some understanding, then headed straight for the two boys in front of him. Harry and Dudley sprung into action. Both boys deciding that long-range was useless against this type of foe and charged it for a coordinated attack.

Harry having the dexterity set up a faint for Dudley to follow through. No fancy teleportation, just speed. The oil Golem split into two, the first charging Dudley. He made quick work of it. A fury of aggressive slashes ripping jagged jello blocks from the creature.

The second one hardened its body considerably in anticipation as Harry made a thrust to skewer it with his practice blade. The bladed struck true, as if piercing glass, parts of the golem shattered, then a scraping sound as if striking a match. The blades catching a spark on the Golem erupting it into flame, similar to how a vampire would.

Its body made of oil took to the burning rather well. Harry and Dudley weren't quite as fireproof.

Both boys backed off hoping the fire would at least make this fight a little bit easier but they were never that lucky. The creature used its flaming body to its advantage separating both boys from each other wildly flailing a flaming fist. Before finally trapping Harry in a corner.

The Golem smothered Harry and for a brief second of silence seemed as if he would drown and burn in the living oil spill.

Then the Golem rumbled his oil body bubbling as if in a pot and with a scream it popped like a bubble sputtering it's crude oil body all across the walls of the training room.

Harry huffed, looking around the room he groaned, but not with pain.

"I'm definitely going to have to clean that up." He turned to find Dudley covered head-to-toe in the black gunk, part of his hair was on fire and his poor wood shop uniform vest was practically dyed with splotches of black.

Ollivander looked much better, A hasty shielding charm caused none of the oil to even make it within a meter of him.

"Well done boys this was your fastest time yet, although I would hope that you would do something…" He paused for a second to look around at the damage. "A little cleaner, a sloppy kill will not do."

Dudley grumbled as he got the gunk out of his hair.

"Meet me in the potions cellar after you two clean up, don't be late." Ollivander walked away with a flourish.

Both boys headed to a custodial closet, pulling out cleaning supplies with habitual ease. Wet mops squelching on the grimy hardwood floors. Six months had passed since the boys started their tutelage under Ollivander. The results were definitely showing. Dudley had slimed down a bit while keeping his hulking frame and grew a few inches, passing for a rugby playing teen.

Harry's growth was much more spectacular: a steady diet, and plenty of exercise from carrying wood, he grew out of his malnourished state. Giving himself a wiry frame that fit him rather well. He was still a tad short, Dudley was always quick to remind him.

Both boys had been put through mental marathons to keep up with all their schooling and we're taught many things. Recently including how to defend themselves.

"About time the old fart told us something useful." Dudley wasn't much for book learning, the only thing he really cared to learn was how to kill vampires. It slowly peaked into an obsession. When Harry asked Ollivander about it, he simply told him to give Dudley time to find his peace. Harry responded that six months was far too long to be thinking about the Dursleys.

"Most of it **is** useful Dudley."

"I can get behind woodshop, maybe accounting and that potions stuff, but when are you gonna need to know freak world history Potter? Face it you're just as disappointed."

He hadn't taught Harry any spells yet either, something about it stunting his growth. "It's given me more free time to test out magic, can't complain." Just because he refused to teach Harry didn't mean he stopped practicing.

"It's amazing, you've even turned napping into something freakish!" Dudley never got used to the trances. Harry waved him off.

After the mess was cleared up both boys threw away the equipment making sure to lock up the closet after they were done. A short last minute check up before they quickly headed towards what Harry affectionately referred to as the magic panic room.

Down the stairs swirling deeper and deeper into the bowels of the workshop Ollivander had a sort of mix between chemistry lab and a microbrewery. Various metal cauldrons of copper, lead and brass fumed various colors of pungent smoke. Beakers and bottles and baubles filled with various ingredients. What they were, Ollivander never told but Harry did find what seemed to be the fuzzy end of a pony's asre boiling in one of the pots.

Making it down to the center of the room they took their seats. Ollivander was standing next one of the cauldrons tossing in strands of meat into it, at regular intervals.

"Ah boys, you'll have to excuse me. I've been given an order to have a shipment of wands for the aurors and I need to fill the backlog, We have a few things to discuss regarding your tutelage under me."

Dudley growled. "We're wasting time, when will you let us hunt actual vampires?"

Harry turned to Dudley incredulously. "Where would you even look genius?"

Dudley didn't have an answer. "I'd figure something out, better than sitting around with a thumb up my arse."

"That's why I've called you here. Harry, I believe you are ready to go to the next level. I'm afraid that's where the path that you two have shared together must part."

Harry was a tad surprised.

"And what about me!" Dudley roared.

"Truth be told I've taught you all I can Dudley." Ollivander stirred his pot twice counter-clockwise. "At least nothing that you as a squib would need to learn so fast, and nothing that could help you with your personal crusade."

Squibs while having recessed magic could still make potions, use portkeys and some enchanted items. Quite valuable, but much like regular non-magicals, because they were looked down upon by their wizard counterparts, many just go to the muggle world and find entry level jobs to slowly acclimate to muggle life.

"So that's it then, well thanks for nothing." Dudley turned to Harry. "And you, I'm happy you can learn parlour tricks while the rest of those freaks are roaming free. Dudley turned with an angry huff and stormed back up the stairs.

Harry made to go after him but Ollivander stopped him, shaking his head.

"Why didn't you stop him?" It was Harry's turn to get angry.

"I meant what I said about not being able to teach him anything else, he is just a boy, a squib yes but a boy nonetheless. I am not going to lose a student because I've filled him with false promises of revenge. Patience is the only thing I can give him at this point in time. Besides I only have enough magic to send one of you through the portal."

"I'm sorry. The what?" This was news to Harry.

Ollivander made three "X" like motions through the pot and wiped his hands on his vest. "I'll tell you as we get there." He swirled his wand and casted a stasis charm on his cauldron. Harry looked in awe as the boiling mixture froze in place a bubble on the top mid burst.

"Well don't stand about, with haste Mr. Potter." Harry shuffled quickly to follow, maybe the old man would teach him that first. Ollivander swished his wand horizontally revealing a spare room with runic decals along the walls with painfully intense care.

Harry didn't need to turn on his mage sight; he could feel the magic emanating from it.

"Consider yourself lucky, not many would be privy to one's personal ritual room." Harry looked at Ollivander with doubt. "I've been getting information from good sources. They've been telling me that more vampires have come crawling out of the woodwork since you and your cousin offed Denever. So I figured I'd jump start the magical portion of your tutelage."

Harry looked even more confused, " So what does this have to do with a portal." Ollivander stopped him with a finger.

His wand raised once more he breathed in deeply and started to chant his wand twirling like a conductor for the London Philharmonic. Swirling and weaving with a care Harry hadn't seen him use with anything else.

Five minutes in, it started. With a sound almost like a ripping piece of parchment, a crack formed in the center of the room hovering in the air. A low hum joining with it.

Ollivander just kept going. The tempo of his wand growing faster. The crack ripping further and an ethereal sea green glow spreading out further beyond the crack. Turning into an arch shape.

Faster Ollivander's wand went and wider the arch spread.

Enough that Harry shielded his eyes from the light. The beat of an ancient drum roaring with Ollivanders wand movements peeking into a crescendo.

And that's where Harry heard it.

A motherly voice, he recognized it in an instant. The call of Magic.

As the light dimmed down to a reasonable level, Ollivander dropped to one knee wheezing. Harry made to catch him, he knew that feeling of magical exhaustion quite well. Ollivander looked at him with a small nod of thanks and a smile.

"Well Harry, I give you the bread and butter of the Wizarding World. You may have noticed in your history books about various countries going to war for leylines, yes?"

"Wells of magical power used for massive enchantments and rituals." Harry added with confirmation.

"I'm glad you didn't consider my lessons a waste of time." Harry looked away sheepishly.

"In addition to the enchantments and rituals ley lines are the only effective way to keep portals like this open, pocket dimensions mostly used for resource extraction and some large scale farming. Some things can't be covered up with an expansion charm and an Obliviation Squad. Merlin knows the muggles get closer and closer to figuring out Nessie actually exists." Ollivander ended with a tangent.

Harry stepped forward towards the teal archway "What am I supposed to do in there?"

"This is the next step in cultivating your magic just as we talked about, I can't guarantee your safety so be careful, trust yourself and magic." Ollivander pat Harry on the back.

"When will I get out?" Harry asked one leg in.

"A wizard is never late. Nor is he early; he arrives precisely when he means to." Ollivander responded cheekily.

"Nice line. I'm sure you say it to all the eight year olds you send on magical journeys." He rolled his eyes at his mentor.

"Goodbye, I definitely won't miss you ruining my dramatic flair." Ollivander waved off. "Honestly young people, no respect."

Harry snorted and readied himself for his next great adventure. As he told his last step through the portal.

**Outside with Dudley**

He needed to get some fresh air. He only agreed to the tutoring from Ollivander to have the power to avenge his family. Stop anything like that from happening to anyone else. So that he wouldn't have to rely on Harry and his freakishness. So he could be the man his father molded him to be.

He turned towards Trafalgar Square, maybe the fountains would make him feel better? The pigeon shit couldn't be seen too well in the late afternoon light. It wasn't too far from Ollivander's woodshop and it was one of the few places in London that had a fond memory for Dudley.

He walked a ways in the heavy British rain, surprisingly not too many people were willing to catch a cold marching around in a wet winter. But nothing would stop him from seeing that blasted fountain. No one not a soul, he was completely determined to-

A solid thud could be heard on the semi-vacant street.

"Oi watch where ya goin'." Some bloke knocked into him. That was one reason why Dudley didn't care for much London. Everyone was either full of themself or just plain rude.

"Piss off." Dudley shook his head in confusion. "And you ran into me…" Turning around to face his rude fellow pedestrian Dudley found just a drenched London sidewalk.

"Ah to hell with him." Dudley turned back around and walked faster finally reaching his destination.

Looking around the square was mostly empty, only a few straggling tourists taking pictures of Nelson's Column. Taking a moment to admire it he remembered his dad going on about the greatness of a man like Horatio Nelson, a man that he wanted Dudley to imitate. Ingenuity, Drive, Discipline, Loyalty. All traits Vernon expected of his boy, his pride and joy. Big shoes to fill in Dudley's opinion. He found a nearby bench to sit and think.

"England expects that every man will do his duty, huh? So what's mine?" Dudley was still for a moment until an alarm vibrating broke the calm.

He fished in his coat pockets, and pulled out a very fancy looking pager, buzzing away. When did this get in there? Dudley had only seen a pager once, he'd heard of his dad's job giving one out for all the employee's for business but this didn't seem like the same one his dad had. It was sleek, with crimson outlines and black finish. No buttons either.

He was trying to find out how to turn the stupid thing off, when it lit up with a message that sent chills through his spine.

"Hello Dudley." He read aloud. "We've heard a lot about you." Dudley looked around frantically. Was this some sort of prank from Harry, because if it was…

"We've noticed your interest in protecting the innocent from the things of a supernatural persuasion. And we've noticed your frustration in your mentor barring you from your quest." Dudley swallowed how did it-. "We'd like to help you, meet here in a week, same time. Think it over, you have twenty-four hours."

It was a more than tempting offer, one that screamed trap. He made his way back to the workshop just as nightfall hit. He decided he would err on the side of caution and go with the Enfield tucked safely in his pocket. This was his only lead and he wasn't going to waste it. He'd do his duty and make Vernon proud.

Chapter 3 A Glorious Hunt or Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood.


	3. Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood

**December 1988**

The month had been quiet for Dudley, Harry had disappeared to God knows where and Mr. Ollivander had left to do something for the Wizengamot for the holidays. Dudley smartened his coat and headed out the door. No one noticed him leave.

It was a windy afternoon in London. The various ornaments of the festive season were swaying stiffly in the frosty gale. The streets were filled with more people and tourists. Dudley made sure to be aware of his surroundings. He couldn't afford to be stopped this time. The Enfield in his coat pocket grew heavier at the thought. He walked briskly to Trafalgar Square. Same place, same time, he reminded himself.

The square had gotten it's holiday cheer recently. Norway had donated it's yearly Christmas tree by now. Garlands of holly and ribbon were thrown about with disturbing frequency. Dudley tried his best to ignore the festivities and made his way to the bench.

Quickly whipping out the pager he sat there and waited. Staring at the glowing lime colored screen like a lifeline. At exactly 5:35 it rang its distinctive jingle. Dudley nearly dropped it in shock. Fumbling with it he finally got a good grasp and read the prompt.

"Good afternoon Dudley, check under your seat?" He whispered.

He hadn't noticed anything under the bench when he first arrived. As discreetly as possible, which was poorly by anyone else's standards, Dudley tilted his head to peek under the bench. Sure enough a small box wrapped in festive Christmas paper and fanfare, greeted him.

Picking it up he noticed a cheekily scrawled "Merry Christmas" on the front. Rolling his eyes, he opened the box to find a picture and a map. Giving both a once over, Dudley found a message.

_Arnold Leven: Confirmed Vampire, enthralled a local street gang to bring him victims. Can be found in the areas marked on your map, picture has been provided. Eliminating the target is the priority, the rest of the gang is fair play. Have fun. _

Dudley was floored, it was his in on ridding the world of those damn bloodsuckers, sure it was a small fry but the promise of getting at a bigger fish later on excited Dudley. Thinking on it he furrowed his brow.

He knew he would need some equipment for the job, and he only had two bullets left for his Enfield. Dudley, even with his minor training knew to not go charging into something that could drink you like a juice box. He was brought out his thoughts with a small thud. His box got slightly heavier.

Dudley looked down, finding ten more rounds for his pistol.

"Cheeky bastard." Dudley laughed out. That made things much easier. Dudley made his way back to the workshop, making a list in his head of the things he'd need.

Arriving back in a timely fashion he grabbed a few pieces of white oak wood from the storage. They often gave him the task of doing inventory so the head manager of the younger kids never asked for the keys back after the first few months. Dudley was enjoying the advantage it gave him. After measuring twice and sketching out some shapes he moved over to the machining tables.

Cutting on the bandsaw Dudley started the long process of forming stakes. This time he would be prepared.

**A Week Ago**

Harry fell through the portal as soon as his second foot followed on. Then a long falling feeling began. A twisting sensation pulling and pushing his body together like a taffy puller. Far too different from his own form of transportation. All ending with him being shot out like a cannonball out into lush grass. What he hoped wasn't his blood turned out to be fresh dew. Wiping off his trousers he looked around and stared in awe.

"Forget bloody Kansas." He breathed out.

Standing atop a hill Harry saw a dazzlingly lush green plain, spreading out as far as his eyes could see. The grass looked to be to Harry's shins and was spotted with flecks of vibrant purple wild lavender here and there. Dandelions and marigolds shown like sprinkles of gold. And the clouds in the sky were few, as to show off the baby blue, orange-pinkish tinged sky. Harry assumed the lack of night time bug sounds meant the sun looked to be rising soon.

He looked up finding no portal.

"Looks like the only way is forward, but…" Harry spun in a circle. "No landmarks." He sighed.

He sat down in his meditative pose and got comfortable. A minute passed, then another, and another. Rabbits hopped past and tilted their heads at the unusual sight. A bird used him for a perch but still no movement. He sat perfectly still until the sun read eight o'clock.

To an outside observer Harry was a statue until his head snapped over in a direction and his eyes fluttered open.

"Magic says that way." Getting up with a jump, Harry started his hike northward grabbing a few handfuls of flowers on the way.

Harry made his way down the hill, the soft crunch of the grass setting the tone of his march. The wind blew softly across the field, waving to Harry as he passed. Through fields of green. Over soft peaked, stubbled hills and subtle slopes.

The weather was pleasant and the terrain forgiving. Which was good in Harry's case because of his lack of gear to carry. But he knew he couldn't leave until his "training",as the old man called it, was done. And he would either need to complete it before sundown or figure out how to get food, water and shelter soon.

Harry was once again cursing that drama queen of an old man. Leaving him in some godforsaken wilderness no matter how picturesque, with nothing but the clothes on his back, was what Harry felt defined a "dick move."

"It will help "cultivate" your magics, Mr. Potter." Harry mocked. "It's a trial that countless wizards have partaken in. Bollocks to that, if I knew it was a camping trip, I would have at least brought toilet paper."

After complaining for a while Harry found his first landmark, a large hill formed from limestone. The many grasses and dandelions hiding in the cracks covering the rock showed its age. It had a few openings that made it look awfully familiar to a sideways skull.

He was halfway past when a small tingling feeling in his mind halted him. He could see in the morning sun a faint brown glow coming from the eye socket caves. It had a feeling like rubbing his hand on Petunia's granite worktop.

The call of magic and his own sense of adventure telling him to investigate. Harry quickly found footing and made his way up. Climbing over the "cheek" of the skull and crawling into the cave Harry looked around in awe.

He found a myriad of crude carvings,idols and paintings drawn all around. Some of animals Harry couldn't have thought of. A few paintings with people dueling with strange weapons and powerful magics. One of people and animals kneeling to a faceless woman with green hair, crowned with a rainbow of flowers, and skin the color of fertile soil.

The most intact painting depicted humans and humanoid figures riding various beasts into a battle against giant lions with forked tails and a blob creature with thousands of eyes and tendrils drawn with cruel jagged edges.

The artwork all seemed to converge onto the center piece. A statue of a burly pair of identical twins; one male, one female. Covered in grey stone armor. Both holding a single gauntlet high above. Each one inlaid with a goldish crystal, illuminating all other drawings.

As Harry approached the brown glow got more intense. Carefully stepping forward he just grazed them when dual voices were heard in his head.

"**Will you stand firm, as a rock?** Will you stem the flow? **Will you stall the wind?** As the dirt does, will you hold back the flame underneath? **Will** you **endure**?" The voices ended together.

Harry was bombarded with his worst memories of the Dursley's.

Petunia's mockery, Vernon's beating, Dudley's bullying. The growing seed of envy at his unconditional love from his parents. The wallowing, the mockery, the mistrust, the looks, their whispers.

"A freak."

He was reminded of every wound, every scar, mentaly buried and half healed. He clattered to the ground. He screamed. White flashes of pain arced through him, blurring his vision.

"A freak."

His eyes watered. Was Denever his fault? Did he lead him there? If he didn't hesitate would everyone survive? Would Dudley be so self destructive? He wouldn't be forced to live in secret, like he did now. If he was never born Harry Potter, would he live as a normal boy? Would people like him? Would his parents be alive?

Harry felt naked. The comforting song never came to soothe him. He couldn't feel his magic.

Harry noticed his hands first. He was small again. His old malnourished self, wearing Dudley's far too large cast-offs.

Through the pain he saw a foot.

Looking up he found a familiar walrus mustache face.

"I swore when you appeared on our doorstep." His voice just as Harry remembered." We would beat the freak out of you, boy." Vernon Dursley purple faced and big boned in all his glory stood towered over Harry.

"Good job you did." Harry spat. His anger simmered at the sight of the dead man.

"No boy, I'd say we did rather well." Vernon's face almost made a smile. "Better than your no good, waste of space, parents."

"My parents were great people." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Great enough to abandon you."

Harry swung.

The impact felt good. The satisfying thwack against Vernon's cheek was a therapeutic sound to him as Vernon was bloodied.

A heartbeat passed before Harry felt the force of his punch sent right back at him. Knocking him back, sliding down the cave wall.

"Get up boy." Vernon's teeth were rose colored. "Are you a ninny like I thought when you cried on my stoop, a wretched little parasite?"

Harry slowly got up and spit out blood. Wiping his nose he rushed towards Vernon.

"That's it boy come get what you deserve."

Harry ducked under a left hook. Sending two quick jabs and getting pain in his own torso in return. He gasped.

Vernon laughed as an uppercut sent Harry's blood arcing on the cave floor. Vernon quickly grabbing Harry's head, kneed him twice in the face, breaking his nose.

Harry cupchecked to get free.

The pain hurt him a little less because of his younger body, while Vernon stumbled with a groan. Harry started rushing in to capitalize, but Vernon kicked him in the chest. Feet scraping against the gravel he caught himself.

He wasn't ready for a swift blow right to the gut, with the force of a mace.

Harry started wheezing as he swung back but Vernon caught him, grabbing Harry in a chokehold. Meaty hands like a vice. Turning them both to the same shade of purple. Harry tried kicking his way out. Each one getting weaker the longer Vernon's hold held through.

While his vision blurred, Harry bit Vernon's arm in desperation. Vernon yelled, releasing his grip on Harry's throat. Flinging him towards the wall

When Harry turned around to face him, Vernon's foot lashed out again, finding purchase on Harry's knee, a sharp popping sound ran through the cave.

Harry rolling over to the floor with a yell.

Vernon stomped down. An echoing snap. Harry silently screamed.

Vernon kicked his downed head into the cave wall. Growing more purple with anger by the second.

"I. Told. You. Boy." Each word punctuated with a kick.

"I'd. Beat. It." Each sending Harry deeper and deeper into the cave wall.

"Out. Of. You." Harry stopped moving.

"That showed you your place freak." Vernon's face went back to its normal pink.

Wiping his bloodied shoes on Harry's cast-off shirt. He turned around. Then stopped and sniffed the air.

"Ozone?"

He didn't see the punch to his throat, or the one to his ribs.

Harry's body flashed over to Vernon's left side, lashing out at Vernon's knee with his good leg. Vernon dropped like a felled tree. Harry followed up with a devastating headbutt to Vernon's nose.

Harry was numbed, his nose was already broken. His bones already ached, his spirit already tested. What did it matter? Sitting on Vernon's chest, Harry let it all out. His tiny hands slowly grew back to their normal size. He got taller and his new fitting clothes came back to him.

Six long years of damage and helplessness directed to Vernon while Harry's face grew puffy with each strike.

A bit of Vernon's blood got into Harry's now swollen eyes. Wiping it off, Harry lifted his fist to go back to his vengeance. Until, for a moment, he saw the meaty hand of Vernon bloodied from a golden eyed Harry Potter staring back at him.

It changed back on to a half golden eyed stone skinned Vernon Dursley.

"I was a hen laying on the egg of a snake." He made a pathetic attempt at a laugh. Defeated and bloody but hanging on, Vernon only sported a wound on his neck all the other damage from Harry was gone.

"I saw it boy, if the vampire didn't do me in, you would have, with your own freakishness.

So why don't you now? I'm already dead."

Harry's fist clenched.

"You've been planning it for a while, I saw it boy. You wouldn't have done it quickly in our sleep, no. You wanted us to suffer, like you."

Harry's magic flared once more. "You wanted your revenge."

"You're right." Harry's fist went down with sparks dancing along his fingers. Cutting straight through Vernon's head, a quick finish.

"I thought about it a lot, after every beating, after every bit of abuse." A breath Harry was holding in let loose.

"But it will be to put that chapter of my life to rest. I refuse to let you or anything from that house shape me in any way I don't want."

The golden eyes of Vernon shot open and the twin voices rang true. "Good **Answer"**

A golden goop flooded the floor crawling up Harry's hand. It hardened like concrete trapping his arm. He struggled against it thrashing all the while.

He sent wild arcs of electricity loose to try to free himself, but to no avail. He screamed as the goo continued to move up his body. Muffling him, then blocking his ears and nose. Until finally, it covered his eyes and the world was no more.

* * *

Harry found himself staring at the statue in the cave, just as pristine as he started. He wildly spun around in justified panic, then started patting himself down to make sure everything was still there.

On the first pass he noticed none of the injuries had stayed. "That was quite nice of them." He mused. "But I'd rather the sticks and stones thanks." He accused the statue.

He would only feel the pain of a broken nose once, and it would at least have the courtesy to leave. His many psychological wounds just layed about and the new ones stacked on top each other.

As he made his way towards the opening, he felt a tightening around his fingers. Unnoticed during his body search, the two goldish crystals became transformed into two golden rings. With some engravings that looked to be in a marbled, direct type of script and half the symbol for Gemini on each.

The light twinkled once more in the engravings then flickered. Looking around the cave it felt like a closed museum. Harry took the hint and left.

Moving down the skull cheek, he felt the tingle of magic pulling him towards heading north again. Not one to disappoint he reorientated and restarted his rhythm.

"**Come back soon. **You still have much to learn to properly wield our gift." A fleeting dual voice rang in his mind. Harry would make a marker of the spot if just to avoid it for as long as he could.

"With no paper or writing tools, Potter?" His inner voice snarked. He would be sure to make a mental map then.

The more he thought on it the harder it was to stop making a face at his over eagerness to hop inside the portal unprepared.

"If you're lost, remember to bring a map." He thought, shooing away a bumblebee that was attracted to his new rings. Turning away from the Skull Caves, he carried on for a time as magic compelled him to continue. The crunching of grass was the only reminder of his journey. He had a lot to think about.

A few more hours into the hike, The sun was high into the sky. Harry was beginning to become a little jaded with the scenery. And was mentally exhausted from the Skull Cave ordeal. So when clusters of trees began to show up Harry took a much needed respite. Falling into the shade provided. He quickly fell to a peaceful nap.

He had a dream of a rainbow stag fighting a weeping tree, an angry mountain caging a bird and a redhead woman laughing at a man with glasses.

He came to when the sun was low, he smacked his dry lips, scratched his head and looked up, cursing himself for dozing off so long. Precious hours of sunlight wasted. After beating himself up a bit mentally his stomach growled. Food, he had no food. No food meant no magic, no magic meant defenseless Harry. He shook his head, "a worried man dies faster." He couldn't fret about, he had to keep going and hope to find something on the way.

Thinking back on some of his tutoring under Ollivander he remembered about the growth of a forest. The increase of trees is a good thing. He equated it to a source of water nearby picking up the pace he began to find more trees. These were denser and had no path leading into them reaffirming that Harry was indeed in the sticks.

Harry had a choice: conserve time and go in the wooded area or stamina going around. Possibly getting lost in a wood in the dark or outside it trying to find a water source that may or may not be there. He didn't have the time or stomach to think it over with meditation. Harry decided to bite the bullet.

Making his way into the thicket he scraped by the brambles and branches. Doing his best to protect his face. Pushing his way through after getting stuck in a rough patch, the foliage gave a sharp snapping sound. Sending Harry sliding down a steep woodland hillside.

Thinking quickly he grabbed onto some of the rocky outcropping slowing down his descent. "This is another reason to find water and shelter soon." Harry thought. Imagining the same fall with zero visibility wasn't a pleasant thought. Shaking his head clear and slowly following a safer path down, Harry walked deeper into the forest making sure to snap twigs and generally mark his path so as to not get lost on the way.

As the sun nipped the horizon Harry decided to stop for the night. Wandering out in the night wasn't going to help him do anything but get lost. He decided to look around for a place to sleep. He found an upturned tree's roots that with a bit of work could be used to house him for at least the night.

Harry used the last bit of light to gather piles of leaves and some moss from the nearby area to use as bedding. It looked like he would spend the night on an empty stomach. No use whining about it now.

Harry tried to have a good night's sleep. Rolling deeper into the tree roots Harry shivered late into the night. To the sounds of the forest, Morpheus took him.

* * *

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter you did what?!" Ollivander half asked, half shouted.

Harry jumped back a little, "I just took the electricity from the grid, and channeled it, no big deal." Harry shrugged.

Ollivander looked like someone just snapped one of his custom wands. "No big deal he says" Ollivander looked at him exasperated. "You should be **Dead** Mr. Potter. Capital D, **Dead**."

"It's not that serious, I channeled the elements. You know that's wizarding 101."

"Who told you that?!" Ollivander's eyes got a sharp glint to them, their wildness restrained only enough to figure out who was to blame. "I'll turn their intestines into snakes and their lashes to needles!"

Harry backed up a bit. "I read a couple of comics and thought it'd be cool to try."

Ollivander smacked the sides of his head. "Imagine Harry Potter, having Muggleborn Syndrome, I'm sorry Mr. Potter, your knowledge of the world of magic beforehand caused me to overlook the idea that you may have tried to experiment with ideas of magic from the non-magical world."

"What's wrong with that?" Harry looked put out.

"Nothing is wrong with exploring the limits and being creative with magic, but many first-generation wizards and witches try to copy something and often don't have the know how or supervision of an adult magical to undo any possible damage. Experimental magic has taken the lives of countless magicals young and old."

"That's pretty reasonable actually." Harry stubbornly conceded, but he wasn't happy with Ollivander having at him for all his hard work.

Ollivander sighed. "Mr. Potter, while yes it is true that wizards do wield the seven elements rarely do we choose something as volatile as lightning." Ollivander gave a berating look that Harry sheepishly looked away from.

"And we do so under our own power, to limit ourselves. The same way the body gives pain to tell us to stop doing something that will cause permanent damage to it." Ollivander finished.

"I'm not going to give up magic until I get a damn letter from a bunch of ivory towered bastards." Authority and Harry were water and oil at the best of times.

The British school system and their lack of control monitoring Dudley's gang, the citizens of Privet Drive and the ever present Vernon and Petunia Dursley were Harry's prime examples of what not to look up to.

Harry had taken extreme gambles already for his craft, he still didn't fully understand why Ollivander cared so much about someone he only personally knew for a few months.

"No Mr. Potter, me barring you would be hypocritical on my part. Your style of magic is unprecedented and should be cultivated like any other talent."

"Great so when do lessons start, will I get a wand, staff or stave? Ooh, ooh maybe a pocket tome." Harry practically vibrated at the thought until Ollivander crashed the party.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter I won't be able to provide you with a wand or foci for now."

Harry made to protest but Ollivander raised a hand. "Mr. Potter, what have our lessons taught you about wands?"

"They're for more control over magic, by creating a safe conduit for magic to channel from the body to the outside." Ollivander nodded.

"You should have remembered that modern wands were made to standardize magical output, so that younger magicals could be weaned off of their personal reserve "accidental magic" and start pulling from the weave. Using a small portion of their personal magic as tribute, much like a ritual."

After his very Ravenclaw fueled lecture Ollivander's eyes narrowed.

"You have been circumventing this by offering up other things when you normally wouldn't have the magic to do so. Such as some of the pure energy from the grid like in the case of the electricity becoming lightning. A wand or foci at this important junction in your life would be detrimental to the cultivation of your gift." Ollivander nodded sagely.

"This is just a ploy so you don't have to spend more time away from your trinkets."

Ollivander vehemently denied and shooed Harry off to his shift in the workshop.

* * *

Harry woke up to the sounds of the morning forest birds. The blinding sun hitting his glasses. He started with a jolt. Knocking his head on the underside of his tree root bungalow. An expletive later Harry and some checks to see that nothing drew blood. Harry moved the leaves to the side and snapped off a piece of root. Starting a list.

"Needs." Harry scrawled, smacking his dry mouth. "Water, Food…" Harry looked up at the dirt and roots making up his current lodging. "Shelter's good," Harry sniffed his shirt. "Bath."

He looked over the list and clapped his hands. "Alright." Harry shimmied out of the roots of his tree and got his first good look of the area around him.

It was a rare clearing in the bush. Thin young trees trying to peek out their place in the sun under the monoliths of the older ones. Harry's tree being the oldest and biggest of the bunch. Sunlight came through swaying leaves and birds nests. Leaving beams of light to cast rainbows off of the morning dew. The ground levels coated with a slick lime colored moss. Proving nothing but Harry had made use of the clearing in sometime.

Harry quickly gathered a broad leaf from the ground and channeled a bit of magic into it. Thinking hard about the feeling of his thirst.

Droplets of dew slowly started to rise up all around Harry. Shining like gemstones in the air and coalescing into a hand sized bubble of water. Enough to quench Harry's thirst for now.

He almost spat it back out at the first sip. It had an awfully strong bitter leafy taste to it, but he just swallowed it down quickly. Harry gagged a bit but managed to keep it down.

"Raw forest green tea." Harry tried to clean his tongue on his dirtied t-shirt.

Heading out of the clearing in between his unsuccessful attempts to get rid of the taste.

"I'll need more water soon and with a water source, food should follow." Leaving a path of broken branches Harry moved deeper into the forest. Taking note of any signs of anything edible looking along the way.

A ten minute jaunt through the thicket yielded some good results. The trees started to thin out a little and the sound of running water was just a few feet away. Harry was happy to find a creek nestled into a small ravine. The source of it was a sizable waterfall to the east.

It wasn't huge but it continued on for some time westward. Making his way down to the clay and rocky banks he tentatively stuck his finger into the water. Perfectly chilled. Then dunked his head in to take a long drink.

After coming back up Harry took a few seconds to catch his breath and rest a bit in the clay banks. He looked down and had an idea. Taking handfuls of clay and working it into a fist sized ball, Harry closed his eyes and the ball began to spin rapidly. Moving his fingers in complex motions the ball flattened and shaped itself into a vessel. Turns out he had some natural talent for it, who knew?

Harry squeezed his hand into a fist and the grey pot started glowing red, until he felt it was ready. Harry called it back to him and tapped it, hearing the almost metallic sound of kiln hardened clay. After amusing himself with an anecdote on whether Harry's Pots or Potter Harry's was a better store name, Harry collected water to bring back with him. Task number one completed.

Walking back to his clearing Harry immediately started to clear the brush from it. Digging out a pit for a future fire. Separating it into useful and only good for tinder. After a sip from his jug, He started the long process of weaving some vines and plant fiber into cordage and then rope. An hour later he deemed his amount sufficient and began working on something to hunt and hunt with.

Harry found a few young trees to use. Taking a jagged stone Harry started to saw and twist the saplings to cut them down. Dragging them back to the clearing Harry started carving out a few to be crude spears.

Next he attached a good length of the rope to a sturdy sapling to act as a fishing rod. He saved a particularly springy one for later to be a bow. Grabbing all the stuff he needed, Harry headed out.

* * *

"Do three square box turns after it turns chartreuse colored, set to roaring boil for two hours." Dudley read out from a thick tome to Harry. "The bloody hell is chartreuse?" Dudley questioned.

"I think it's alcohol?" Harry answered. "Green, made in France?"

Dudley turned his nose, "Sounds fitting." Harry snorted.

"Oi, you reckon this potion shite gets any harder?" Dudley peered into the cauldron, moving out of the way of a popping bubble. "Right now I'd say it's no harder than cookin'."

Harry stayed focused on the potion, doing the three squared stirs as soon as the liquid was a light green.

"Dudley, only you could suck the magic out of brewing potions and what do you know about cooking?" Harry turned briefly to raise an eyebrow.

"I've watched some shows with Mum once or twice." Stopping to think. "And I've cooked a few meals in my day." He finished chuffed.

Harry looked over, exasperated. "You microwaved pizza bites."

"Potato, Patato. Food made. Food eaten." Dudley smacked the rim of the cauldron. "Simple Potter."

"What is this microwave? The workers in the woodshop keep demanding I get one for the break room." Ollivander stepped down the stairs to the potions lab.

"It's a normal people way to cook food really fast." Dudley chimed in.

"Peculiar, what caused this line of thought?" Ollivander asked after giving a nod to the potions current state.

"Potion making is just cookin'." Dudley waved off. "Nothin to it's just a bit of this, some of that, then add eye of newt and boom, cure for the common cold."

Ollivander chuckled.

"You're not wrong Mr. Dursley, the preparation of potion ingredients is identical to cooking at lower levels, but eventually potions becomes more akin to chemistry. Some consider it an art later consequences of a wrong stir or a poorly cut ingredient could easily be an explosion or a substance strong enough to melt through your feet before you notice."

Harry paled, taking a cautionary step back. Ollivander laughed.

"Remember students, just cooking an omelet does not a master chef make, don't be afraid to break a few eggs." He lightly nudged Harry back towards the cauldron.

"Be sure to always work to improve your craft and don't shirk the basics."

The chime of a timer brought the boys back to their stirring.

* * *

Dudley got comfortable in his perch, a vantage point above the typical hangout of the street gang. From up here everything looked small. He couldn't see their faces too clearly, but that's how he preferred it. He didn't need a face to know his target. He found out he could feel it.

Dudley thought that it was a smart idea for the vampire to be so inconspicuous looking. But ultimately a wasted effort. A primal sensation wafted off of a lankier looking teen in the middle. Dudley, as soon as his little stake out started, noticed it immediately. Maybe it was the way he walked and stood far too confidently for someone his age. Maybe the way he almost left Dudley's sight when the shadows hit him at the right angle. He didn't quite know why, but he'd been learning today to not look at a gift horse, and all that.

Soon most of the gang went their separate ways, but not the target. He stood still for a moment. A moment too long for Dudley.

He quickly ducked behind the roof's parapet. Prone flat on his stomach. He didn't dare move. A few precious seconds passed. He knew that he'd have to quickly remedy the situation or he'd quickly become the hunted. Then the eaten.

Waiting a few moments more for safety, Dudley began to shimmy his way out of his target's line of sight. Doubling back around he found his target walking off into one of the dive apartment's opening from the alleyway. Not a care in the world.

Dudley quickly slid down the fire escape ladder to get a better vantage point. A front row view.

Planting his feet with a squish on to the grimy half cobble half concrete street, smothered light from windows and a single orange street lamp illuminated the cutaway. Dudley took a look around.

Graffiti from the street gang decorated the brick walls. Half rotten doors dotted the way, with bins overflowing with rubbish guarding them. Blocking people from entering or leaving. The smell of urine and alcohol clung in the air. Not the vampiric lair he thought he'd be stumbling into.

He did his best to quiet his steps as he made his way towards a window to listen in.

"The Ash Lady herself still hasn't come yet." A gruff voice caught Dudley's attention.

"More of her men are pouring in from the continent, it's gettin' kinda stuffy and a good dinner's gettin' rarer." A voice said between coughs.

"You'd think she'd have enough to feed on in the USSR. Lots a people an' all that."

"People that stand in line for beets, they'd be all marrow! Rumor is she prefers veal anyway."

"Beets are dandy for blood flow, ya know!"

"Issat right?"

"Will the two of you shut up!" A silky voice shouted. "Slowly starving is bad enough without you two bumbling idiots moaning on about it. A shuffling sound could be heard. Dudley felt a chill. He didn't notice the sounds of the street being muffled.

"The Ash Lady is trying to snuff us out, to replace us with her dogs like Cullen. Too many Black Scourges will tip off the wandwavers, or worse Hellsing."

"She's looking for someone, we need to figure out what." The gruff voice called out.

"No, we need to be vigilant to threats and get her men off our turf, just hit 'em hard and they'll drop."

"Both are possibilities…" The silky voice started. "But let's see what our guest has to say."

Dudley's eyes widened, once again diving to the ground as this time rounds of gunfire exploded from the window.

He rolled towards the bins as shards of broken glass showered down on him, finding safety in the piles of rubbish. Dudley caught his breath as the bullets slowed down. He wished Harry was here, or at least that he was here to teleport him to not be pinned down. What would he do in this situation? Something stupid and completely bullshite no doubt.

"Little rat little rat, come out to play! The silky voice rang out and curled into Dudley's ear.

A sharp reminder of Denever caused him to immediately bite his tongue. As the blood pooled in his mouth a plan formed.

"My ghouls will find you so why don't you just come to me." The silky voice called again, unsure on why his allure didn't work. A rustling from his left. He snapped and pointed towards the trash. The ghouls stepped up and unloaded rounds into it.

After a few seconds of fire the ghouls were halted by a trash bin lid, covered with splattering of blood, slowly rolling into scene getting every vampire's attention. As it fell to its side the sizzle of an intentionally poorly brewed potion was muffled just long enough to activate.

The explosion destroyed the two ghouls instantly and most of the sidewalk. The target managed to get away with only the loss of an arm and a chunk of his torso.

Dudley sprang from the trash unleashing rounds from his Enfield. Each bullet taking another chunk out of his target. Dudley walked forward as the gun finally clicked showing its emptiness. The face of Arnold Leven melted away as a gaunt face with sharp yellow eyes and fanged lips hissed at Dudley.

"You don't know what you're doing boy. Powers beyond you are at work." The thing hissed.

Dudley just raised his stake. "I'll deal with them later."

The creature lunged. But Dudley was quicker, putting all his weight into it, stabbing down into its heart with his white oak.

The target froze mid swipe Dudley stepped back as the corpse of his target fell, then caught blue flame. It burned brightly until the flame started to swirl around Dudley. He nearly shrieked when the flames dove for him. Until they were sucked into the pager. Dudley chuckled nervously as everything was confirmed with a beep.

The sound of shattering glass brought back the sounds of the city that Dudley didn't notice had stopped. He looked over to the spot his target was a moment ago. He felt good from it.

Unlike with Denever this kill felt less hollow and bitter. Wasn't he supposed to feel remorse or something? A small rumble in his coat pocket lifted him from his thoughts. Its lime green glow a small comfort.

_Good Job! Next Week, Same Time, Same Place._

Dudley shook his head and made the long walk home. This vampire hunter thing was looking pretty good.

* * *

Father Cullen walked into an alleyway, the battle that took place minutes earlier was freshly imprinted in the area. Bits of glass from the windows and bullet casing smattered the ground. Some potion was still sizzling through the cobblestones and concrete. And a syringe's worth of vampire dust laying about. Noteworthy. He'd take it for later there's always a buyer mundane or magical.

His cross heated up a bit, right the real reason he was here. The brief hint of magic, the scent of a flower, it got stronger. This was good, it meant progress. Like a ripening fruit Harry Potter must be cultivated and plucked out at his peak. It was the only way the ritual would work.

The protections from his mother was the thing leading all the danger to him. Lily Potter: brilliant, but a naive fool.

Father Cullen stiffened, the feeling of a chilled breeze, with a hint of grease. He'd have to be weary of this one, too smart for his own good.

"Ah Severus, a delightful surprise."

Snape stepped out of the shadows cloak billowing in the frosty air, wand out with ice crystals already forming at the tip.

"Charmed."

"Did you just come back from your normal heathenous activities or just the special Death Eater ones." Cullen turned to take a good look at him. The years had been kind to Severus.

"Fishing for information this early?" Snape sneered. "You've gotten desperate."

"Some of us have to work for our daily bread, we can't all suckle at the teat of an Albus Dumbledore."

"You're a priest are you not, surely you could just pray to your God for food?"

Cullen laughed "I did once, and here I am." He finished with a flourish.

"Standing in a dilapidated alleyway, chasing after a child, while you do a balancing act between masters like a special breed of whore. Yes, I'm sure God had very big plans for you."

"Aren't you doing the same? Or is this colored by personal reasons." Cullen parried. The air in the alley got sharp. Snape's wand never slacked for an instant. The cold concentrated on them.

"Stay away from Harry Potter." Curt and no nonsense.

Cullen waived him off. "I take it back, we aren't the same." He made his way back onto the bright neon of London streets. "You don't even mind when your strings are being pulled anymore."

Severus didn't let lose his stored spell, he didn't want to give any evidence of his being there. The Ministry would definitely notice the shattering of the unregistered spacial enchantments these vampires liked to throw around. They'd send some spare bastard here at some point and he didn't want to get involved.

Heading back into his shadow he was blessed with the popping sound of one such investigator. "Harry Potter, by order of the Ministry come out with your wand at your side!"

Snape couldn't even manage a sigh. "Dunderheads the lot." Disapparating with a more quiet sound.

The official didn't notice, he was too busy reaching for the communicator gem on his collar. "Subject is resisting arrest requesting Auror assistance. I repeat, requesting Auror assistance."

* * *

Much time had passed since Harry first made it to the forest. Quickly he fell into a routine. Every morning he would make a run to the creek to collect water for the day and rocks for washing.

Then he would then spend time till noon hunting or fishing. He would cook half for lunch, saving the rest to stew in a magic forged clay pot for dinner or smoke them to preserve it for the next few days. His time slaving over a stove making breakfast or helping Petunia with the big dinners was paying dividends.

His afternoon spent working on building projects for his base or categorizing local magical flora. He left nights for working on magic. With plenty of visits to the Skull Caves.

Today was a light day.

So currently Harry was in the top level of his tree tower having finished hollowing it out a few days ago. He'd gotten the idea from watching a few grubs worm their way through wood. A few nights later he'd created the spell. Then he started working, planning out floor by floor. It took months of work and even with magic Harry had to work out the finer details by hand.

Seven layers, because why not, and a basement with each layer being about the size of a one bedroom/one bath apartment with a fifteen foot ceiling. All connected together with a spiral staircase and a rope ladder fire escape just in case.

Starting with the kitchen in the basement to carry heat through the the first two floors being a general workshop and hobby room respectively so Harry could carry material indoors with no hassle. Floors three and four were a bathroom and bedroom, with large windows for natural light. The next few floors were a treasure room, a training room and finally the research room. Where Harry was sitting by a window, at his built-in carved desk.

"Okay today, we've got a blue apple looking fruit" Harry listed out. Writing down with a piece of charcoal and a thin strip of bark soaked in water to soften it up.

"Discovery #275." Harry wrote out loud.

Looking it all over with his **Mage Sight** had confirmed that it wasn't poisonous to the touch but Harry would have to test them the mundane way to see if they were safe to eat. Taking a sliver off of the fruit with a clay knife, Harry poked and prodded. Writing down everything.

"Subject is apple-like throughout, no strong smell." He took a bite. Chewing slowly, getting a strong wintergreen flavor.

"Minty, refreshing." Harry blew out a whistle that froze over his desk. "Definitely useful." Harry dropped a slice of it into a mug of water. Flash freezing it to a mug shaped block of ice. "Too useful, possibly."

He cleaned up his desk and made a note to see how long the mug would stay frozen. A warm breeze swept through from the window. Harry looked out to the forest below and decided to take a walk. Sliding down his spiral staircase he made it to his bottom floor. He grabbed his satchel at the door.

"Marigold! Lavender! We're heading out!" Harry, getting lonely one day, made two little pixie-esk creatures out of the handful of flowers he'd picked his first day, very handy for menial tasks, not the best of conversational partners as he'd hoped.

They both floated towards him as he opened his door to the morning sun. The clearing looked much nicer these days. The small fire pit had been converted to a kiln and an occasional smoker. It was a bad habit. Harry now, where only moss had existed, had a small garden filled with wild berries and vegetables of both the mundane and magical variety he found. And a sizable plot of flowers. Mostly for all the bees his damn rings kept attracting. He'd have to get an established apiary soon, at least the free honey was good.

Harry didn't have to worry much about anything coming through his front garden so he didn't wall it off. It would have felt wrong anyway.

"You know the drill, at the first sign of trouble you two will come back, alright?" Both the flower pixies nodded and each took a perch on Harry's shoulders.

"Onward to adventure!" The pixies cheered along as Harry headed off into the woods.

Down the small mossy cliff, past the Wintered Apple grove, he took a few for the trip. Across the grub filled fallen trees and the mushroom farm, Harry made it to the creek. A sort of barrier to what he considered his turf. He had all of the spotted meadows and a good portion of the woods to himself, so he never ventured beyond. Until today that is.

The sense of adventure in him went spare at the idea, but the Harry molded by his formative years gave him a foreboding feeling. Caution got Harry here, but so did taking risks. Approaching the clay banks of the creek, Harry rolled up his trousers and waded through.

"Hello." He jumped and looked around. Marigold and Lavender pulled down on his sleeves gesturing to the water. He slowly panned down towards the creek and found a face in the water.

"Um, hello." Harry called out more timidly then usual. The first real conversation in months definitely was nerve racking.

"Do not be afraid, I watch you collect from me every day and wanted to introduce myself." A shy squeaky voice called out.

Harry paled. "I'm terribly sorry, I'll stop right away." Eating a sapient was a big no-no on the morality scale as far as Harry knew. But was it cannibalism to drink some one? He thought of the vampires and concluded with a resounding absolutely.

He'd have to find a new source somehow. Maybe a well? No, probably the same source. Is there a groundwater spirit? His first conversation in a year and he blew it. The water spirit halted him.

"Think nothing of it. To sustain life is a great purpose. One I am happy to fill." A few smoothed river stones floated together to create a smile.

"Err thank you for keeping me alive then … sorry I don't have your name."

"Oh, my name is-" The water spirit made the sound of a rock being skipped across four times with a few fish splashes mixed in.

"I don't think I'll be able to pronounce that?" Harry deadpanned, a little confused. The water churned murky as if in thought.

"That's fine." It eventually decided. "But what do I call you all?"

"This is Lavender and Marigold." Both pixies waved politely. "And I'm just Harry." He said with his hand outstretched. The now named creek floated a small bit of driftwood to make a perplexed raised eyebrow.

Harry felt like an idiot.

Until the water grabbed onto his hand and before him formed into a clear version of himself , with sand hair and clay eyes. Pulling itself up to meet Harry eye to eye.

"Just Harry hmm." The water Harry splashed around him. "I can appreciate that." Water Harry giggled. Harry was put out, he didn't giggle damn it.

"And why's that." He responded a bit hotly.

"It proves you know who you are." Harry looked a bit confused. "Like my water must flow to fill your pots it never stops being water. Flexible to fill the role needed but never forgets who it is. I admire that in a hero." The clear Harry finished.

"I'm definitely not a hero, I'm more of a scholar, an adventurer at best." Harry backpedaled.

"Nonsense, you hold yourself like a stormcloud, with less arrogance, very refreshing." It waved off.

Harry was going to ask, but if there were talking creeks there might as well be toff stormclouds, what's next "nonce trees"?

"A hero must take many jobs, but if you are just after knowledge, I will part with some. If you grant me a favor."

Harry took the bait. "What do you have in mind?" The water spirit clapped with joy.

"I've been noticing, along with other strange instances, someone has been diverting my flow a ways downstream, this happens every few thousand cycles, but I normally meet back up with my sisters at the lake at some point. Now I can barely sense myself past the divergence. It is most unpleasant." The water of the doppelganger got murky.

"I humbly request that you go search for the reason for this disturbance. **Do you accept?**"

"Of course it's the least I could do for your help." Harry and Harry two, also, stood there for a minute.

"Oh, quite right, **I accept.**" The words leaving him carried a magical weight.

"Perfect, I have a gift for your travels." A small lily pad floated up to Harry's shins. The size of a hockey puck, with a delicate looking white flower on top. Marigold and Lavender immediately jumped in and started mimicking Steamboat Willie and pulling an imaginary horn respectively.

"A tight squeeze, is it? I take it there's a password to make it grow?" The spirit nodded and sprinkled some water on the petals. It grew to the size of a rowboat. More than enough room for Harry to move his legs.

"Simply take the water off the lily and it will revert back. It's a smart one, so it knows how big it needs to be. Travel safely, come back in one piece.

"I'll do my best." He promised as he placed a careful first step on to the lily pad.

Settling in, he turned and waved as the spirit guided the makeshift vessel with a noticeable amount of force. The waves pushing him swiftly down the creek. Harry laughed gleefully as the lily pad serpentined like a speedboat. Kicking up plenty of aquatic life in the wake. Lavender and Marigold held on to his worn t-shirt for dear life.

* * *

After a few minutes of travel Harry learned how to steer rudimentarily. And the joyride ended, but as they got further down the river their speed was greatly reduced. Harry guessed that they were getting closer to the goal. He decided that a more measured approach was necessary.

He carefully moored the lily pad onto a suitable part of the bank. Flicking the water off the lily, Harry took the now shrunken boat and safely stuck it in his pocket. He turned his attention to the task ahead. It looked daunting.

The trees lost some of their familiarity, the sounds from them foreign, and the taste of the air was just wrong. Harry nodded towards the pixies, with affirmation from both they split off to search. The pixies naturally did an excellent job of disappearing into the foliage. Harry sat down on the bank and got into his pose, focusing on the potential trials ahead.

Marigold was excited, her creator had given her and her sister an important task, the first of many. Hopefully.

She knew they were made to be friends with their creator to stave off his loneliness. Very hard when neither of them could talk. So they tried to be useful in other ways, like helping tend the garden or searching for interesting plants and materials. She would fulfill this new task with gusto. She tapped her sister to get going as they both split apart.

Lavender was a little more gloomy of the two. She wasn't very active and often hid a little ways behind Marigold, but she was a silent and more importantly subtle helper. Very useful for certain activities. She cared for her creator, but she often found herself annoyed at Marigold's exuberance.

Marigold muted her colors and scouted ahead. Doing her best to not rustle the leaves too much, Lavender was much better at this sneaking around stuff, but she would do her best anyway. It's what her creator deserved.

She felt a tendril of her creator's magic near her, radiating excitement and some concern, she allowed the connection and felt his presence in her head, trying his best to be as unobtrusive and gentle as possible. They looked around together. Eventually finding the signs of travelers.

Tracks leading to and from the banks of the creek and the nearby treeline. Marigold floated down to get a better look. Somewhat large, at least larger than her creator, with clawed features. A beast perhaps? Her creator's thoughts rang through her head and melded a bit with her own. The mud was leveled differently from the front of the track to the back, was it bipedal?

An interesting idea, her creator had seen the remnants of something intelligent in the Skull Caves, but no sign of it in his many forays into the Spotted Fields. Had something been hiding in the forest the whole time? She and Lavender would have definitely known or seen some signs.

Looking back to the tracks, Marigold herself made the observation of what looked like something being dragged along the way. Something heavy enough to stop and lift, then stop and drag interchangeably. It was done in a hurry. Her creator thanked her and asked her to come back, when a sharp feeling of surprise and dread came through the link.

Lavender had found something.

* * *

Lavender wasn't having the best of time. She felt a bit of foreboding hanging around the forest. And as she was definitely the more squeamish of the two sisters, she proceeded with some caution.

She floated around for a bit but found nothing that would help her creator on his quest. With the sun barely showing through the tightly-knit trees, only small rays of light coming through the canopy, she decided to get a higher vantage point.

Quickly flying through the spotlight made by the canopy she was slightly surprised to find beauty this far up in the forest. After taking a moment to enjoy the scenery she started her search again.

Catching some smoke up ahead she decided to communicate to Harry. Getting his confirmation and a pulse of magic telling her to use caution, she followed the smoke to its origin. She made a face as she found a scene that would, if she had one, have made her stomach churn.

A rare grassy clearing in the forest, that looked more like a battlefield than anything else she had seen in their time exploring. Gouges and fresh blood spots peppered the ground. Destroyed trees, snapped in half and several fires setting the rest ablaze. In the center were various beings and beasts being carted away in chains by two-legged hyenas.

As some tried to fight and were slaughtered by their assailants, others were carried off. The dog men with their captives sunk into the trees themselves as if the bark was made of water. Taking them to who knows where. She began to creep closer stealthily. Trying to find any helpful clues on who these beings were and why they would raid. Surely there was plenty of food elsewhere. This clearing was just a home. A ping from Harry told her that it was time to come back.

But as she made her way down, she didn't see the claw that grabbed her.

"Hey there, pretty flower. I wonder how you taste?" Lavender turned her head around to see one of the furry figures with hungry blue eyes. Its elongated crooked snout had several of its yellowed teeth poking through.

"Boss man said everyone was to be used for ritual, but surely a scrumptious little tiny morsel like you wouldn't be missed. No? Draampa thinks so." He cackled.

Lavender bit his hand, then wiggled out of his furred grip as the walking wolf yelped in pain. She darted back into the foliage. The dog man trampled through right after her. Trying her best to shake him off, she flew in between the trees. Only for the dog man to go through them with little effort.

She felt the displaced air from bites nipping at her back, the thumping of her pursuser's digitigrades on the forest floor. The dog man howled, immersing himself in the hunt. She banked left into a group of bushes doing her best to notify Harry via their link. The dog man sniffed around.

"A shame, easy to pick out. Like a sweet perfume this far in our parts of the forest." He growled in glee. Lavender scooted deeper into her hiding spot. A single blue eye of the dog man shown through the leaves.

"I'm afraid our game is over." He grabbed her again mindful of any teeth. Lavender shut her eyes tightly.

He began to bite down, but was stopped by a glob of clay restraining him by his throat. He reached for it trying his best to scrape the clay off while dodging out of the way of a pair of arrows. Searching around for his interrupter he was greeted with arrows gaining purchase in his shoulder. He tried to remove one but it shattered once it was touched.

"Pottery?"

The sound of displaced air followed behind him.

"Potter."

Harry let loose a volley of hardened clay arrows, the dogman scrambled out of the way swiping away any arrows that he could. Harry rapidly blinked across the trees, the only sound being a slight shift in the branches, pinning the dog man down by his patchworked leather armor.

"I didn't expect to find gnolls here of all places." Harry stepped out of his cover, green eyes glowing with magic. Vengeance on his mind.

Harry's lessons from Ollivander had mentioned all manor of races that wizards had come across in their travels across the realms. Gnolls were some of the vilest and their natural penchant for wanderlust turned most of them into a band of inter-planar brigands.

"Where meat and plunder are plenty, a gnoll carves his slice. Surely you know wand waver your people do the same." The gnoll tried to backpedal towards the trees slowly loosening his restraints.

Harry scooped up another bit of clay from his satchel, sending it to float in front of him and the gnoll before twisting into shape.

"Why are you here?" He calmly asked while his arrow glowed bright orange flash hardening into form. The gnoll gave a hyena laugh.

"Find out wand waver." The gnoll let loose a retch of dark noxious gas. Harry jumped back out of the way sending his arrow straight into what he thought would be the gnoll's chest. A thunk echoed through the fog. As it dissipated Harry cursed at finding the arrow embedded in a tree bloodless. He waited for a few moments for an ambush, when none came he rushed back to his pixies.

He appeared a few feet from their location, as to not startle them and give them time to recognize him. He found that Marigold was doing her best to console Lavender. Once Lavender felt his presence she scurried her way towards Harry's arms visibly upset. Harry did his best to calm her down while looking through her memories. After she calmed down a tad he spoke.

"That settles it, no more scouting for a while." Harry gave both of them a no nonsense look, emulating his best Aunt Petunia. Marigold pantomimed a protest but Harry was having none of it.

"Until the gnoll threat is gone, that's how it has to be." Marigold huffed while Lavender got gloomy.

"No, it's not your fault and Marigold don't blame her; she had no control over it. Once we're back on the other side of the woods, you two can explore on your own. Till then stay close." Marigold still put out, turned into her earring form after a glance at Lavender.

Lavender looked back at Harry once more. "Don't worry I'll be alright." He gestured towards his satchel. Lavender gave a small smile and morphed into her earring form as well leaving Harry alone with questions. As he put both pixies on his left earlobe, Harry made to see the carnage first hand.

Popping out into the clearing, the stench of death was the first thing he felt. Smoke from long burning fires darkened the area. Trails of viscera and tracks led to the opposite treeline, then disappeared. Only traces of the gnolls and their atrocities left. He circled around it prodding every so often. He didn't find any runes or signs of rituals, strange.

Gnolls weren't often supposed to be wielders of magic, especially ones pertaining to nature. Gnolls, in corrupting themselves to survive their crude dimensional travel, wouldn't be able to use any magic that didn't leave a trace. The feeling of wrongness in the rest of the forest was proof of that.

He couldn't meditate on it given the hostility of the area, so he was stuck with doing things the old fashion way. But with no leads and an impressive bit of forest to scour, most likely filled with gnolls and gnoll ambushes, Harry was stumped. There had to be something else.

A rumble from his left told him to duck. He rolled out of the way just in time to see the tree fall in on itself. Another rumble told Harry to quickly side step.

He then blinked to the upper branches to see what he was facing.

A hulking figure stalked towards him, the face of a snowy great horned owl, burning orange eyes sunken in with grey plumage rings. Large feathery eyebrows putting a permanent scowl on its face. Its body was shaped like a bear with several grey and white feathers instead of fur. An obsidian beak and claws with the dried blood of a previous battle gleamed in the clearings light.

On all fours it barreled towards Harry, smashing through the tree with ease. Harry flipped down to the ground, landing with great dexterity.

"I'm here to help. Why are you attacking me?" Harry readied himself when the hostility didn't falter at all.

The owlbear didn't answer it just charged again snapping with its beak at Harry's neck. Following it up with a swipe. Harry blinked away to dodge both, but the owlbear didn't let up. Constantly hounding Harry making it impossible to channel his magic into something more effective other than dodging.

Harry tried to weave through a particularly brutal swipe and barely had time to see the follow up. Quickly raising his arm to block, channeling magic to his rings. A faint clear buckler that smelled of fresh dirt sprang forth to protect him, as Harry began to charge up his magic.

The owl bear continued to slice chunks out of the shield. The strength pushing Harry back making furrows into the ground. The rings started to glow a strong gold light, until the shield shattered like glass after a snap from the owlbear's strong beak.

Harry used the distraction to activate the ring on his other hand, the gold glow forming a gauntlet, sending back all the kinetic energy stored up and taken over time in a single punch, kicking up dirt and debris.

Harry made a mental reminder to put his dislocated shoulder back in after this was over. His body wasn't totally immune from the laws of physics, yet.

The owlbear slowly turned its head back to Harry, popping its neck as a few feathers came out from Harry's last attack. Harry sent another kinetic punch releasing earth rattling energy to the owlbear's gut, giving him enough space to let loose his readied spell. A chunk of moss he'd been saving in his pocket disintegrated.

Slamming one hand to the ground Harry thought about his clearing. From the small crater he made, a growth of moss sprang forth like a gush of water wrapping up the owlbear who tried its best to slash out of it but the moss continued to grow until it cocooned around the beast. Trapped and secured Harry let out a deep breath.

His prisoner struggled to find a way out. "Finish me off yourself. I am not afraid to join my brethren, do not hide behind your magics like your vile coward of a master." The owlbear barked out.

Harry was only a little surprised at the hybrid bird speaking. He tried to make his most intimidating face and talked to the beast.

"I'll ask the questions here. Who is disrupting the influence of the creek? Why did you attack me? " Harry spent much of his control trying to keep the moss strengthened. He winced. "And I don't have any master."

"Do not pass off your actions, the living tree is indeed your master, you deny and yet you still use its magics as your own." The owlbear's neck made a motion towards it's temporary prison. Harry was confused, but it seemed like a clue to figure out the root of this problem.

"Hypothetically speaking, let's say I don't know who this "living tree" is. Where would I find them?" Harry guessed that the owlbear and the living tree had some history given it's intense dislike of Harry being even remotely similar.

"I will not fall for your tricks." The owlbear screeched. "You and your master's kind cannot be trusted. Your powers are unnatural."

Harry deadpanned, "You're a hybrid bear, owl thing! There is nothing "natural" about you!" Harry added the air quotes.

"I'm more natural than a wingless hairless ape." The owlbear scoffed. "Were you kicked out of your pack or abandoned at birth?" Harry tightened the moss a tad.

The owlbear grunted, then was surprised to find it was let go.

Harry turned to the clearing ignoring the distrustful look on the owlbear's face. It growled.

"And what makes you think I'll just let you go?" Harry still didn't turn back around. He just kept going.

"You're going the wrong way." Harry stopped, did an about face and continued to march on, a smile never leaving as he made his way towards the mountains in the distance.

"Idiot."

* * *

Harry and his new companion followed the creek up towards the mountainous regions. The sun began to dip towards the Spotted Plains. Harry tried to make some report, but…

"You are quite yappy, is this an ape thing or is it a particularly annoying wingless hairless ape thing?"

"Small talk is a useful skill and much appreciated by the civilized." Harry responded with a nod as if he said something profound.

"Then how would you know how to use it, hmm?" The owlbear chastised.

"It's been awhile since I've had a real conversation, alright." Harry was surprised that he hadn't gone mad being alone in the portal realms this long with so little social interaction. To be fair he did randomly go off on a quest given to him by a magic water being. Maybe he was starved for attention?

"Hairless Wingless Ape, try to keep up. Stop daydreaming and start moving. We must make haste before the living tree's servants find us."

"My name's Harry." He insisted.

The owl looked him over. "I do not see it."

"Well what's your fitting name, go on then, let's hear it." Harry prodded.

"Our clan decides our name, I do not have either anymore. The living tree has them." The owlbear whispered.

The conversation stopped for a few minutes, before Harry spoke again.

"You don't have to be afraid to ask for help, or to help someone."

"You don't understand the damage and death that monster has caused, The gnolls are the latest of many atrocities. They will pay for the crimes done, by my claws, not by magic." The owl bear growled challenging.

Harry didn't back down. "You sound like an idiot I know." The feathers on its neck rose hackeled.

"Don't hide behind your revenge or your grief." Harry finished. Their stare down was starting to make Marigold and Lavender nervous.

The owlbear sidestepped and moved on. "We shall nest here." It waved its paw in the general area then extended its claws to climb into a sturdy tree. Curling up in a thick branch the owlbear left Harry to his own devices. Something he was more than used to.

"I guess it's first watch for me."

He motioned for them and his two flower pixies sprang forth, both worrying over him for a moment before he waved them off as they prepared to make a fire.

Lavender wandered a little too close to the owlbear's branch and nearly was cut in half by a snap from its beak. Marigold went to confront the beast but Harry swiftly ended it with a shake of the head.

The three went to collect firewood, with Harry keeping the both of them in his sight letting out a bit of magic to start the flames. Once a nice camp was established Harry got comfortable for his night watch shift. He went back and sorted his satchel for the tenth time tonight.

Not much to do when you're the only one that cares enough to do a night watch.

A beast hybrid of two nocturnal animals goes to sleep as soon as the sun goes down?

Magic, not even once.

Speaking of he'd need to remember to get new components for the next day, he thought that it would be difficult considering the negative feeling of ambient magic surrounding this part of the forest. Not something he was willing to test out. He started to yawn, but Harry slapped his face and mentally steeled himself. He'd be in it for the long haul. Figuring out a way to keep his mind active, Harry stared at the fire as the world started to dim.

The unease had grown once the sun had completely set. The thick miasma of the day had permeated heavier now in the air. The fire flickered, low to embers, only a few twigs left to curb its hunger. Harry was starting to feel the effects of a full day's hike and his substantial magic use.

The forest was unusually quiet this night. Only the soft rhythmic breathing of his owl bear friend? Ally? Associate? Yeah, associate is probably the best word. Only the soft rhythmic breathing of his owl bear associate broke through the nothing around him.

The thicket of trees blocked the two moons that Harry was just starting to get used to.

The shadows made spread far off from his his vision. Leaves and trees of the forest, the bark, the rocks, the roots all blended together in a sea of black indistinguishable from each other in the dark as they rhythmically breathed in unison. His eyes drooped a little.

Then a sharp smell rose him from drowsiness. The scent of magic. It cut through his daze with a quickness. His magic hummed inside him with anticipation. The fire was snuffed out but he still felt warmth. The only beacon of familiarity in the dark.

Something was there. And it wanted him to know.

"**Mage Sight**"

He found an eye staring back at him, an orange and lime green affair. Glowing teal tears trailing down. One became several as a chilling voice sprang forth from the mass of eyes.

"My last ingredient." A voice rumbled like roots carving through soil.

"Come boy, come to me." A gnarled hand-like branch quickly snatched his leg and dragged him towards the deep of the forest.

Harry gasped, frantically looking around. The fire was still burning cheerfully, at his side Marigold and Lavender were snuggling into his tattered shirt, snoring. The forest, nowhere near as dark.

The owl bear moved towards him, they shared a look, before it continued on its way to the other side of the campfire. "They are lucky," The owl bear moved its neck slightly at the two pixies.

"They do not have to worry about the visions." Harry's face twitched and the owl bear noticed. "The living tree is a hunter first and a Sorcerer second. They strike when you are weak. Where you are weak."

"Sleepless nights? For how long?" Harry's voice almost betrayed him by cracking.

"Since they came apparently. I have only known stories, my people are traditionally from the mountains."

Harry suspected there was more to that but wouldn't pry into the owl bear's secrets unless they were freely shared.

"Tell me more about the living tree." A determined look over his face. The owl bear preened.

Then laid down shaking its head.

"The story begins some time ago…"

Chapter 4 April Showers


End file.
